On Wings of Steam
by ToktelasAndTea
Summary: For as long as Akihiko can remember he has been under the protection of a 'angel'. One night, as he lay dying on the streets of 1890's London the angel reveals himself, turning out to be nothing more than a remarkable green eyed clockwork boy. But Misaki has a past and the organization that he ran away from wants him back so the two must flee London together. AU AkihikoXMisaki
1. Chapter 1

**How many of you would get it if I said this fic contains **_**Romance, Adventure, **_**and **_**MAD SCIENCE**_**! For those of you who are clue less, that is the beginning of the Girl Genius radio shows and also how I would like to introduce my own steampunk fic. The reason I chose to write this is simple. It's what I know best. I have spent my whole life researching about old Vicky's time. Almost all of my free time is spent at the library reading old issues of **_**Punch**_** and other newspapers/magazines from back then. So just as a warning, this fic is going to be written with slang, political references, social reference and anything else from the Victorian age. I tried to put foot notes to stuff their might be questions about but since I'm oblivious to the real words and have no idea what a regular person knows and doesn't know just ask me in the reviews if there is anything that confuses you. For those of you who would like to do research of your own the website Dictionary of Victorian London contains articles and passages everywhere from the newspapers, old medical journals, handbooks for servants, traveling guides, and even segments from Dickens. Just in case your curious.**

**Disclaimer: I may not own the world of Junjou Romantica but the world of steampunk is free for every one to enter. I also don't own Girl Genius, that's would be Phil and Kaya Follio.**

The warmth of my life blood pooled around me as rain pelted like bullets of ice against my pale face. I was too tired to move though. The freezing paving stones pressed against my cheeks as I lay on my back, staring blankly at the dark alleys around me. I knew I should move, but the pain in my stomach from where the knife had slashed across it made it all seemed useless. My whole life; I had struggled so hard, fought so long, gained my freedom only to lose it here, lying torn and broken, my blood adding to the trash and grime of the streets of London's east end. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. I guess I am soon destined to enter into the pits of hell then, because flashes of memories began to play behind my closed lids. It reminded me of picture shows I'd seen at one of the new theatres that had started popping up all over London. I couldn't help but smile bitterly at the pattern clearly shown through the sequence of images. Over and over again I experienced it; the presence of my guardian angel.

He was an entity that had always been in my life. I tried to replay the first of my memories as vividly as I could but I couldn't recall much. I remembered just the pounding of horse's hooves as they thundered towards me, dragging the broken axle of the hansom* behind them. I remembered the terror that had seized me, forcing me to shut my eyes tightly. I don't know if I had screamed or not, just the paralyzing terror that overtook me. I don't even remember where I was at the time. I was probably shopping near Piccadilly with my father or some other similar event.

What I do remember though is a great flapping sound, and the gentle sensation of hands grabbing my sides. I remembered the feel of wind rushing by be at a great speed. When next I had opened my eyes I was sitting on my bottom on the worn paving stones of the sidewalk, too dazed by the quick succession of events to stand. Everyone I had told this to later had said I was imagining things, or that I was a liar. As far as my father was concerned I had never actually left his side.

That had been when I was four.

When I next met my angel, I was six. Coming from a wealthy family puts one in the position of being a very convenient hostage in the making. Even at that tender age, I had already experienced four attempted kidnappings and three attempts on my life. This had been the fourth kidnapping, and should have been the finale. I had been five days without food or water. My mouth had been dry and my body beaten. So I had decided to close my eyes. I must have fallen somewhere between the realms of both sleep and awake because I remembered experiencing a surreal sort of reality in which I had been lifted up by those well remembered gentle hands. Even my mother had never held me as carefully or as tenderly as my elusive hero had done then.

I couldn't recall much, but the glimpse I had caught of blazing emerald eyes will forever be engraved in my brain. The next thing I knew I was lying, battered and bruised but still alive on the stairs leading to my family's mansion, the servants flocked around me and my father standing over my head, a puzzled expression painted onto his usually stoic features.

The memories began to move faster now as if someone had dramatically sped up the film. There were flashes of my getting lost at the circus on my seventh birthday and a glimpse of a mysterious hand pointing me towards my governess. Another memory was of my losing my footing on the balcony of the third floor only to land light as a feather on the gravel driveway at age eight. The year after, my parents had separated and I had been sent to boarding school. My angel had followed me even then, when it seemed the whole world had chosen to forget I existed.

It wasn't just my life that my angel had saved though. When I was fifteen, my fellow classmates had found my collection of notebooks which I had worked tirelessly to fill cover to cover with the stories that swarmed inside my head. They had been tossed onto the fireplace and the leader of the gang of bullies had been but an inch away from the first page, a lit match held in his cruel hands when all the lamps had suddenly been blown out. The next thing I knew, all the other boys had been knocked unconscious and the notebooks had been laid in a neat pile before my feet.

I am unsure when I first started calling him my angel. Hell, I didn't even know if it was a 'he'. I had created so many different faces for him in my head, most of them of men with large frames and strong arms. They're not quite my type, but I was trying to be realistic. I just, couldn't imagine the wings. He must have wings. How else would he be able to save me so many different times in so many different ways? How else would you explain the quiet sound of fluttering that marked the beginnings of each of his appearances in my life? Always, ever since I was six, I have been looking for those green eyes, hoping to catch just one more glimpse.

The rain was falling harder now, but its chill had done nothing to numb the pain shooting from my stomach into the rest of my body with each laborious rise and fall of my chest. I opened my eyes again and gaze dazedly at the muck coating the cobblestones of the alley. I wondered where my angel was now. For some reason they never came when I could see them, but only when I was blinded, whether it be by lack of candles or the overwhelming press of a crowd. Part of me hoped that they would appear now, in full view, and all the mystery would finally be solved, but I knew that wouldn't happen. My ears picked up nothing but the scampering of rats and the wailing cries of a mad woman from a few blocks away. It was midnight in London and I was dying.

Try as I might I was unable to pick up the fluttering noise that would always herald the coming of my savior. But I did not give up hope. My angel would always come. He had always been there. Even when I had been abandoned by my father and shunned by my brother, he had always saved me in my time of need. It had been a comfort during the long days of loneliness when my only companion had been my fountain pen and the notebook in my lap. He had always been there. All I had to do was close my eyes…

+.+.+.+.+.+.+

When next I opened them, it was to the sight of a cheap hotel room, one of the four pence a night kind occupied by harlots and widows accompanied by their eight plus children. The mattress under me smelled like mold, sex and cheap alcohol. It was thin and bumpy, the bed frame poking through, jutting into my back in an uncomfortable manner. There were no lamps in the room, but a fire burned brightly in the hearth sending out a pleasant warmth that spread its fingers to the filthiest most cobwebbed infested corners. Or at least that's what I thought it was doing. Chills wracked my body bringing to light the fact that I was shirtless atop the mattress, not a blanket in sight. I opened my mouth to call for help only to realize my tongue was swollen and my throat parched from want of water. The roar of the fire drowned out all other noises in the room. Suddenly a quick flash of green caught my attention. I wiped my head towards it. And that's when I saw him. The owner of the emerald eyes.

"Oh, you're awake." The creature advanced towards me as he spoke. I would have called him human but the great brass wings on his back that glinted in the fire light prevented me from doing so. I watched in wonder as he knelt next to my bed, his hand coming up to brush away the hair from my cheek. He was small, petite even. Compared to my own 175 cm frame, he was nothing more than a boy dressed in an oversized dirty white shirt and a ragged waistcoat lacking in its buttons. Chocolate colored locks messily framed elfin features which were currently wrinkling in worry. His large bottle green eyes gazed at me in similar concern. My gaze settled on small rosebud pink lips, moving as they parted to form his next sentence. "Are you cold?" I could only nod weakly in reply.

"You're sweating." His ivory skin seemed to glow with an almost halo effect in the fire light as his face drew near, his brow furrowing in concentration as he inspected my feverish state. Despite his words of worry he drew away, away from my view of the room. Immediately, I missed the sight of him and was about to call out, despite the sandpaper quality of my mouth, when he suddenly appeared again, this time his slender arms filled with heavy woolen blankets.

Carefully he arranged them over me, smoothing out the wrinkles and tucking in the corners. The chills did not diminish though. His frown deepened as he again looked at my face. "Are you thirsty?" I nodded, still too much in shock at the turn of events to do much else.

Seeing my nod he leaned over towards some unknown object on the floor and as he did so his shirt rode up and I caught a glimpse of the creamy flesh** that lay beneath. My desire to reach forward and lift up his shirt to reveal more was quickly quelled by the view I got of his wings as they protudded from two slits ripped into the back of his waistcoat.

They shone and sparkled, the firelight dancing over gears and pulleys all of which were attached to a frame that seemed almost to grow right out of the skin of his back, or at least that's what it looked like from the view I got through the rips. Coming from a wealthy family, I knew quality craftsmanship when I saw it, and I knew that was what was being presented before me right now.

Each gear fitted perfectly with the others, the chains used to manipulate the great translucent feathers moved seamlessly together through the work of tightly wound springs and countless notches, each placed exactly where they needed to be, nothing out of sync or added on. They were the mechanical wings of a god, stripped of all decorating in order to promote efficiency, but were all the more elegant and noble for it. Without the ornament and embellishment that decorated all other mechanical works I had seen before they seemed to stand above all the other brass wonders of our age in a class all on their own. I could do nothing but gazed at them wide eyed in awe.

Finally he turned back around, a chipped mug held firmly in his petite hands. He came over and held the lip of the mug to my parched mouth. "Drink." Immediately the cup tipped forward and I was gulping down great mouthfuls of water. I tried not to think where he had managed to get it in the middle of the slums of London and hoped desperately that he had at least boiled it first.

So instead I concentrated on the fact that I was finally seeing my angel. For the first time in my life he had willingly shown himself to me. He was beyond anything that I had expected. He was so small and so fragile looking. And his eyes, so innocent. Yet despite all this, I recognized beyond a doubt the feel of his hands and the glow of his eyes.

Before me, knelt my guardian, my savior. I couldn't help asking myself though, why was he here now. What had changed that had made him at last reveal his form to my eager eyes. As soon as the cup was drawn away, I couldn't help but voice the question that played on the tip of my tongue.

"Who are you?" He smiled sadly as if he had been dreading my asking but at the same time knowing he had to answer.

"It was a long time ago when we first met. Do you remember?" I looked at him puzzled. These were not the words I had expected to come out of his mouth.

"Yes, it was with the runaway carriage and-" He shook his head, stopping me from continuing my sentence.

"No, before that. I think you had just turned four at the time. Do you remember a time when you had decided to wander into the woods outside your mansion during one of your father's Christmas balls? It was during the winter. There was snow on the ground." This time it was my turn to shake my head. "You really don't remember."

It hadn't been a question yet his face grew even sadder when I did nothing to deny his statement. "Well, I guessed you were very young at the time. No one really expects you to remember anything from back then." He stopped, his voice trailing off as his eyes gazed into the distance, seeing something I could only guess at.

"It was Christmas, a night of festivities and merrymaking and I was dying, having crash landed in the woods around your mansion. I was so tired. So cold. All my efforts had gone into escaping and when I had done so, I had found nothing with which to go on." Escaping? From where? Who? I longed to hear more, but he had stopped, presumably caught up in the memory. Finally, I realized that he wasn't going to continue without some prompting. The clearing of my throat sounded louder in the room than I intended, but it got his attention which was what I wanted. The return to reality brought with it a blush which spread across his cheeks, creating an almost irresistibly adorable image. Suddenly I was aware of an almost aching need to throw my arms around him and draw him to my naked chest. I chose instead though, to stay motionless on the bed. I wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"That was when you came. You had found me, half frozen, and buried beneath the newly fallen snow. You had been so expressive back then. Everything is so important when you are four years old. You began to scream at me to get up and move. You were crying even." He chuckled and the smile he directed at me next was one of tender affections. I wondered at the genuineness of the look. Never had I seen an expression with so much truth behind it, open for everyone to see. "You were crying for me. It was really endearing actually. You were crying because you thought I was going to die. Before you, only one other person had cared about my life, and they were my family. It's required or something I guess. You were a total stranger though, and yet you shed tears over me. And do you know what you did next?" I shook my head,

"You ordered me in the name of the Usami family not to move before running off, back to your mansion. I was so shocked, that I actually did what you told me, and much to my surprise you appeared again with a great jug of hot chocolate. Just for me." He was smiling so widely now. Like a small boy on Christmas morning. I stared at him with wide lavender eyes. His smile fell.

"Do you not believe me? It must b-be w-weird right. A total stranger telling you some story you don't even r-remember." Now it was my turn to grin, this time at the silliness of his question.

"No, I believe you. It's just, is that the reason you've saved me so many times? Because I gave you a cup of hot chocolate?" He waved his hands in front of him in a frantic manner, intent on denying my sentence. He stopped suddenly and turned his head away, presumably to hide the blush that had once more crept onto his cheeks.

"You saved my life. I thought it only proper that I saved yours. And well," He turned his head suddenly and looked at me, a fierce light in his eyes, as if challenging me to deny his words. "I like saving your life. I liked it. That's all! Nothing more!" His whole face was a fiery cherry red now.

"But why have I never seen your face? Why are you showing yourself to me now?" He immediately looked down, his shoulders slumped and his eyes hiding behind his thick fringe. I can't remember ever meeting someone so expressive. Someone who didn't hide all their feelings behind a mask of propriety. I could go on watching him forever.

"Your father. He…um…he well…scares me. If he knew what I was doing, he could have prevented it." I furrowed my brow in understanding and displeasure. It made perfect sense. My father wanted me out of his sight and out of his mind, yet at the same time the man faced the dilemma that I too was of the Usami blood and thus all who approach me must go through a thorough background check or risk being killed on the spot. The fact that the boy before me feared my father stopping him from going near me just told me that there was something in his past he was hiding. I looked back at my angel in puzzlement.

"If my father was in the way, then how did you get so close?" Instantly the light was back in his eyes and he was looking at me in excitement.

"I took a job in your household. I've worked in your kitchens, and in the gardens, and the stables and the cleaning staff. You have so many hundreds of servants that it's really easy to sneak in without anyone noticing you. You never noticed me! I mean, I was the one who changed the coals in your fireplace every night while you were in boarding school!" He looked so happy about this I couldn't help but laugh. The action though sent a sudden lihtning shock of pain through my abdomen and chest. My breath escaped through my teeth in a hiss as I flinched violently, which only ended up making it worst.

"Oh god! Usagi-san! Are you alright! I mean don't move! You'll only make it worst!" I cracked open one of eyes at the sound of the name he seemed to be using in place of my own. The bizarre nature of it made me forget my discomfort for a brief second.

"Usagi-san?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I mean Usami-sama."

"No, no, no, I like Usagi-san. It's just, why did you call me that in the first place?" Really it was too easy to make him blush. I fear I was making a game out of it just to distract myself as I lay on the bed in pain.

"Well, um…that's the name you told me when I first asked you. I mean you were only four so a slip of the tongue like that is understandable but…well...it was all I knew you as for quite a few years." I wanted to laugh at this but stopped myself for fear of the further hurt it would cause. I was growing tired now; sleep weighing down on my eyelids, making it almost impossible to concentrate. And I was still so cold.

"You're really cute."

"Eh!" Another blush appeared; this one spreading all the way down to his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. "I can't be cute! I'm too old to be cute!"

"How old are you?"

"F-forty six." Somehow his reply didn't surprise me. I must be really out of it.

"You're still cute. But I'm afraid we still haven't been properly introduced."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Takahashi Misaki."

"It's very nice to finally meet you Misaki."

"It's very nice to meet you too Usagi-san." My lids stayed open just long enough for me to return the wide smile that had stretched itself across his face. And then my world turned black as I slipped once again into unconsciousness.

* Hansom: A horse drawn cab invented in the 1830's by a Mr. Hansom. It was a great renovation to its predecessors due to the fact that the driver road in the back and the wheels had a rubber outside.

** I know that technically shirts went down to your knees or at the least mid-thigh, but let's let Usagisan have his fun.

**So, questions? Comments? Fell like ragging me out for the crappy job I did? Sadly since it looks like it will be a long time before a device is invented that allows me to read minds, you're going to have to review to let me know. **

**-Cheery o'**


	2. Chapter 2

**The song that would go this this chapter and the previous is Hand of Sorrow by Within Temptation. I think every new part of this fic or at least every time I introduce a new character there will be a song. Most likely most of the will be Abney Park.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Junjou Romantica now and doubtlessly never will.**

I stared down at the shivering man before me, worry settling heavily in my heart. The knife wound had gotten infected. That was what accounted for this high fever currently plaguing the body of the man I loved. If only I had gotten there faster. If only I hadn't found my Usagisan so late. The man's lips had been blue with cold. I had wanted to kiss him them, to knead the noble's lips against my own. Instead I had bound up the wound on his stomach as best I could with the torn rags of my coat and had half carried half dragged my beloved to the nearest hotel. After being shown up to the room by a drunk harlot, her face already far gone from the plight of syphilis, I had lite a fire and using the cheap alcohol I had purchased, and cleaned the knife wound as best he could. But apparently my best just wasn't good enough.

Silently I cursed the silver haired man. Why now? Why had he decided to go wandering into white chapel looking for inspiration for his damn writing now? Why not wait a month, or even just a week. Always I have followed him, taking a job first a stable boy, then as kitchen staff. I have followed him from his family's mansion in the winter to his family's London town house in the summer. Hell, I even followed him to boarding school, taking the lowly job of houseboy*, working long into the night and waking up long before dawn just so that I may watch over him.

But then he had bloody decided to move out. A sudden fit of rebellion and the man was gone, purchasing some high class flat in a private neighborhood of Kensington and leaving me forced to quickly quite my job and figure out how I could possibly manage to get close to him when he didn't move to hire even one servant. Not that it was his fault. He didn't know what I was doing. As far as he was concerned I was just some apparition who was always conveniently right on time whenever he got in a tight spot. It's not his fault. He didn't know. He didn't know I fell in love with him.

That night, with the snowflakes swirling around me like small birds, and my mind blank from exhaustion and grief, he had come. At the moment when I was going to give it all up and just lie down without any plans of rising again, he had come. With his thick wool mittens and his cherry red nose he had ordered me to get up. To move. I still remember the feeling that had risen in my chest when I realized the tears flowing down his cheeks were for me. He had saved me that night, the lowest point of my existence he had pulled me out of the darkness. I had sworn then that I would always be there for him. I was not going to give up now. And eventually that fierce protectiveness had turned into more.

From my position next to the bed, I could see he was sweating profusely, the silky strands of his hair plastered half hazzardly to his forehead. Reaching up I brushed the strands away, almost yelping when my fingers made contact with the raging furnace that was his skin. What was I going to do? He was burning up and yet he was shivering and his teeth were chattering from cold. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes before angrily whipping them away. This was not the time for tears. It was my fault he was like this. If I had just been faster in securing my position by his side he would not be here now. If only this damn fever would break!

Taking a clean cloth from the horse I had set up in front of the fire, I wondered how I was going to pay for this room. All I needed was four pence. Four bloody pence, and yet I had quit my job at the mansion so fast, I had been unable to get my pay. And those thieve. Those damn thieves who had jumped Usagisan in the alley, had made off with his purse, watch and any other thing that shone in the light. Not before giving him a knife to the gut as gratitude though. Curse them to the deepest pits of hell!

I dipped the rag into a bucket of boiled water I had allowed to cool down. Then taking the rag I wiped tenderly at his forehead. He sighed at my ministrations, but despite that his face never lost its unnaturally red flush. Clearly breaking this fever was going to take more than wiping away the sweat with some cold water. I knew a bit about fevers. Like for instance, you were supposed to keep the patient as warm as possible. That was the reason for the raging fire and the pile of blankets I had stolen from the tenant next door. But Usagisan was still quaking violently from cold and I was at a loss for what else I could possibly do. Unless I…NO! That was far too forward for one of my rank!

...But, what if Usagisan died?

My heart clenched painfully at the thought and my hands began to shake. Suddenly, despite the roaring flame, the room began to feel very cold. He couldn't. He couldn't die. I wouldn't let him. Propriety be damned!

Hesitantly I began to undress, taking care as I slipped my wings through the hole in my shirt. Their creator was gone now, somewhere up in heaven in which there were real angels with real wings, leaving me down here on earth with no one who had the skills enough to fix me if I broke.

My pants came next and once they were unbuttoned and slipped off I folded my clothes neatly and put them down on the floor next to the bed, in easy reach for the morning. Hopefully I would be able to get back into them before Usagisan woke up again.

Lifting up the blankets revealed to my hungry eyes Usagisan's lean, yet muscular figure. I gulped before sliding beneath the covers as fast as I could, being sure not to touch any part of my beloved's pale skin. This was wrong, so wrong. At the moment, I was nothing more than a homeless street urchins, living on scraps of bread and the thrown out trimmings of fat from behind the butchers. And yet here I was lying as naked as the day I was born next to an equally naked Great Lord Usami.

I wonder if it's possible to die of embarrassment.

This is ridiculous. Nobility or not, I wasn't going to help Usagisan at all be keeping myself confined to the farthest coldest corner of the bed. I was going to have to touch the man.

Hesitantly I scooted forward, all the while wondering if my head would eventually exploded from the great amount of blood currently rushing to it. I must be red as a bloody radish right now. Get a hold of yourself Misaki. You're doing this for him.

Over the years, I had found there was a lot I could do for him. I could fly faster than I ever thought possible for him. I could lie better than I had ever lied for him. If it meant I was doing it for him, I found that I could even go two weeks without sleep. I love him so much it was painful.

And yet, at this moment I was nothing more than a bloody creep, draping myself over and snuggling naked against the object of my affection. I was going to have to beat my head against a brick wall as punishment latter. But right now…I was touching him. Skin to skin.

I could feel the firmness of his muscles, the sharp ridges of his collarbone, and the defined contours of his chest. My hand skimmed lightly over the bandages I had tightly wound around his stomach before I stopped myself. I was not going any lower. I know I had left his trousers on and that below that he still had on his silk drawers, but still I forbade my hand from traveling lower. I really would have to bash my head into a brick wall I did something as audacious as feel him up while he lay passed out from fever on a flea infested mattress in East End. Accidentally or not. And even if lying next to him was like lying next to a living breathing figure of Adonis.

**Akihiko's POV**

The light against my eyes was too bright. I squeezed them shut tighter and turned my face away. Only, it seemed, to bury my nose into something ticklish and smelling of sweets. Images of multilayer cakes and sugar glazed fruit tarts filled my mind. I wanted to wrinkled my nose in disgust but couldn't. I hated sweets and always refused them at tea and before breakfast, no matter how much the cook insisted. This though, whatever lay before me and was filling my nose with its sugary vanilla scent was pleasant. One could get used to this.

I sighed in contentment and whatever lay against my nose fluttered in response. It almost felt like hair, but I knew for a fact that the last time I had bedded one of the servants had been some months ago. Anyways, I had moved out. So it couldn't be hair, right? Slowly I cracked open my eyes only to squeeze them back shut at the first on slaughter of morning light which had decided to attack my eyes like a barrage of needles. It seems I was stuck with my sense of touch in order to figure out what it could possibly be that was invading my bed this early in the morning? Had someone finally invented a vanilla cake with a hairy frosting?

Reaching out, my hand came in contact with a firm velvety warmth. My fingers danced over the surface until I was satisfied with what I was feeling. It was an arm. So there really was someone in my bed. Although at the moment, my bed was feeling distinctly bumpy and uncomfortable.

That's when realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. Last night I hadn't fallen asleep in my bed. Instead I had foolishly decided to wander through the slums of London, only to end up passing out with a knife in my gut. And when next I had woken up I had seen…

…My angel!

My eyes snapped open and I was greeted with the peacefully slumbering face of Misaki, the petite brunette who had turned out to be my life long savior. I smiled. I am not sure why but waking up like this felt right and natural, and filled me with a foreign sense of happiness bordering on euphoria. Despite the way the morning sun was piercing its way through the smog and straight into my retina, I couldn't imagine any better way of waking up.

Misaki was beautiful. The features of his face, everywhere from his eye lashes, thick and long like a girls to his adorable button nose fit the image of a celestial being. Looking at Misaki now was something akin to a dream even if I knew for a fact it wasn't. Despite the praise I often got for my imagination and creativity in my writing, I knew my mind was nowhere near skillful enough to come up with a creature as stunning as that one that lay sleeping soundly in the bed next to him. My lips stretched into a smile and I became aware of how cracked they were. But I didn't get out of bed. Not with this cupid lying before me.

Slowly, so as not to wake up, I lifted one of my hands and ran the pads of my fingers over his plush cheek. His skin was like a cross between the highest quality velvet and a rich Chinese silk. I wondered if he felt like that everywhere, or just his face. Did he feel like that say…

My hand wandered over his cheek and down his swan like neck. Like an age old explorer it found its way over the flat planes of his stomach, stopping once to circle his navel before continuing on in its quest.

My smile turned into a smirk as my hand wrapped around its prize. Yes, he was even softer down here. My enjoyment only increased when to my satisfaction a small moan escaped from between his plump lips. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to know what he tasted like. I was almost drooling in in need. I couldn't go a second longer without knowing if he tastes as sweet as his heavenly aroma promised.

It was unfortunate though when my kiss woke him. Beneath me his eyes widened as he became aware of my hand stroking him below the covers and my lips passionately moving against his above. His mouth opened as muffled scream escaped and I took the opportunity to insert my tongue into his wet cavern. That must have done it though for next thing I knew I was being pushed against the wall as he tumbled over the edge of the bed, landing on his face on the rough wooden floorboards. The moan that came from him this time was not one of pleasure. I took the opportunity to admire his adorable body in the light of day.

"Are you ok?"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT!" For the first time in a long while I felt like giggling. I resisted and settled for the more manly option of a snicker.

"Did you not enjoy it?"

"That's not the point!"

"So you did like it, pervert."

"YOU'RE THE PERVERT HERE!"

"I'm not the one crawling naked into other people's beds."

"I was helping to break your fever you bastard!"

"…Thank you." The body on the floor suddenly went deadly still. My heart began beating in double time. "Are you alright down there?" A quiet mumble was my only response. "What did you say?"

"I said, that's the first time you've thanked me." I looked at him silently for a minute.

"My apologies. Let me do this properly." Quickly I threw back the covers and swung my long legs off the mattress causing me to tower over him from his position of lying prostate before me. The cold hit me like a solid wall and the world seemed to rock for a few dizzying moments, the fire must have gone out some time during the night, but I paid both of these no mind. Without hesitation I was kneeling before him, my hands and forehead pressed to the floorboards in the manner of my ancestors from the island country of Nippon. There was an intake of breath from the figure in front of me, but I did not look up to check his expression.

"Takahashi Misaki, I Usami Akihiko, son of Usami Fuyuhiko, am aware that nothing I can ever do will erase the debt I own you for the countless times you have shown service to me, not the least of which are the numerous times you have saved my humble life. I shall be forever grateful and shall be forever at your service if you so desire."

**Misaki's POV**

I was scared. I was so paralyzed by fright that the clockwork functions of my heart must have frozen in place. I wanted to scream and cry and yell at him to get up. Usagisan never bowed to anyone. And I mean anyone. Even at the boarding school when he had been confronted everyday by the bullies I was forced to save him from time and time again. Even when he was before his father with blood dripping from the corners of his mouth and his fists clenched as he fought back tears, he held his head high and his chin up. He was the Great Lord Usami. The genius writer who had all of Queen Victoria's empire scrambling for his books. And he was kowtowing to me.

"P-please…g-get up. P-please." I didn't want this. I didn't want this at all. This was not the way life worked. This was wrong. So very very wrong.

He was looking at me now, and I think he understood. But then again, most likely not. People were always bowing to him. It wasn't only expected, most of the time it was required. He possessed no way of knowing what it was like to be bowed to for the first time, and by someone like him no less.

It was only when his hand drew back from brushing against my cheek did I realize I was crying. Violently I rubbed at my eyes. Damn it! Why did I always have to be such a cry baby. I froze at the sensation of strong arms circling my slender frame and holding me tight.

"U-Usagisan."

"Shhh, Misaki. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I-It's alright. You didn't know better. I mean, you only just met me last night. T-there's no way you could have known that I was such a weakling."

"Crying isn't a weakness Misaki." I had no reply to that. Of course crying was a weakness. Only girls cry. Men don't cry. What nonsense was this damn aristocrat spouting anyways? Crying was proof of cowardice and lack of courage.

"It's alright to cry Misaki. Emotions are good. Too many people hide their tears behind cold masks. If I had known better, I wouldn't have shown my gratitude if such a way. I probably would have done it in a more subtle manner. I didn't know you would cry. But it's good to let out your tears, and I will get to know you better. I want to get to know you better." His arms loosened and I lost the resting place for my head that I had made of his shoulder as he held me out in front of him. "Will you allow me to do that? Don't ever hide your emotions around me Misaki, alright." I nodded silently, not trusting my voice to stay steady at this moment. Until the realization hit me.

"You want me to continue to help you?" His smile was one of patience and tenderness. I could not understand where it came from.

"Yes Misaki. I want to continue to be with you."

"B-but, isn't it creepy? I mean, don't you find it disturbing? I'm some machine human hybrid freak that had been following you around your whole life!"

"On the contrary, I find it indescribably cute. But you're going to have to explain the machine bit to me. You said before though that you have been staying at my side by taking different positions in the household staff. What are you doing now? My current residence has no servants save a cleaning lady who comes once a week." I frowned at him, finally giving up in the futile struggle to stop the flush that had decided to invade my cheeks. What was with this 'cute'. Was he trying to be clever using this American slang? How crude. But forget about that, it seems he had finally figured out my problem. Above everything else though, I was overjoyed. He hadn't rejected me!

I knew the truth. I knew I was a monster, meant to be shunned by society. I was reminded about this daily after all. It had been the main reason I had never actually shown the man my face. Or my wings. If he had rejected me…Then I would have broken inside. And no amount of screwdrivers or replacement parts would have ever fixed me up.

"That's exactly it. I didn't figure out fast enough how to watch over you. A-and you ended up like…this." My voice trailed off into a whisper as I indicated to the soiled bandaged circling his tight abdomen. As if my reminder, the pain had suddenly been brought to the front of his mind, Usagisan winced and I was up and pulling back the covers, tugging at his arms and getting him into bed. I guess after so many years of helping, my body must be hard wired to aid him at the slightest sign of discomfort.

"Usagisan are you ok? We should call the doctor. But no doctor would come out here. We should get you home. But you have no shirt. You have no shirt! You must be cold! Get under the covers. Here I'll start a fire." I knew I was frantically running around, not sure which direction to go first. The sound of a chuckle and then a groan of pain froze be in my position of half reaching for kindle and simultaneously pulling up the blankets.

"Misaki, calm down. You're like a squirrel trying to store all its acorns at the same time. I dare say, I certainly am not the one who should be worried about lack of clothes." Damn this man and his ability to turn my turn my face fuchsia with only a few simple words. Quickly I slipped my pants up and tugged my shirt over my head. Thanks to my lazy habit of never unbuttoning my shirt getting dressed became quite easy sometimes. With a yank I had tightened the piece of rope I used as a belt and stood there staring at him.

"There, dressed. Now shut up! Just lie down and let me take care of you."

"And if I don't?" He was lounging on his side now, his elbow propped up under him like some Greek god I'd seen in murals on the ceilings at the mansion. I gulped and tried to focus more on the faint way his jaw was clenching in pain and not the way his chest was being fully exposed in front of me, just a small movement and I would be able to have my hand resting on his chest. I could almost feel the hard ridges beneath my fingers already. I hope he doesn't notice the way I had to swallow the saliva that had begun to pool in my mouth. Although judging by the smirk he was sending in my direction they hadn't gone unnoticed.

I turned towards the fireplace, and hurriedly began arranging the various dried sticks, newspapers and other combustible rubbish I had gathered off the streets while attempting to hide my dreaded blush. There wasn't much left though, something I realized after gathering up all what remained from last night. I stared forlornly at the meager pile. On the bed, Usagisan was craning his neck in order to see around me at the pitiable amount of fuel we had to use.

"Misaki…"

"I'm sorry. I'll fix it right away. I'll go get some more. Don't move, you'll tear my stitches. I'll be right back."

"Misaki, wait!" I paused in the door way. I had hurriedly thrown on my shirt and had a cloak half thrown over my shoulders. My wingers were currently folding themselves up into the metal sheath I had built into my back. Akihiko was giving me that wide eyed stare again as he watched my wings, his mouth hanging partially open in an almost comical fashion.

"Yes Usagisan?" He blinked in a way that reminded me of someone waking from a dream.

"Don't go. I can get up. Just help me get dressed and we'll walk until we can hail a hansom." I shot him a skeptical look.

"I don't think you. You shouldn't really even be sitting up right now." He look he gave me in returned was one of annoyance. I knew he didn't like being pampered but this was ridiculous. He was slashed in the gut with a knife yesterday and now he wants to walk more than a mile through the most dangerous part of London? Not to mention he almost died from a fever last night.

"Were you always this insane and I just never noticed or did the fever permanently affect your brain?" His smile was back. The one that made my heart beat twice as fast and told me that whatever he said next was going to trigger another blush.

"Option number three. You're making me like this." I glared at him confused.

"What does that even mean?!"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Aaargh!" I was on the verge of pulling my hair out. He was never this difficult with anyone else? Why me? I wheeled around to face him fully and point one of my fingers at him accusingly.

"Look, you are going to stay on that bed whether you like it or not! I will tie you to the head board if you try to leave."

"Why Misaki, I didn't know you were into that sort of thing."

"Shut up!" Why?! Why does he keep teasing me like this?! Is that all he ever thinks about?

"Misaki, I'm serious. You have no money. I'm not going to just let you go scavenging for scrapes out there."

"What are you going to do about it? It's not like you have any money either. You were mugged, or do you not remember that little detail."

"So I don't have any money on me. It makes no difference. There's plenty at my lodgings."

"Well good for you. A lot of good it's going to do you when you stuck here, in the middle of _Whitechapel_!" I had to restrain myself from physically strangling him by reminding myself he was a wounded man. Although if this continued I was going to soon forget that fact.

"Your right. It's not going to do me any good over there. Which is why you're going to bring it here." I just stared at him flabbergasted, my mouth hanging open in shock. I managed to collect myself though to give him my reply.

"O.k. First, you're insane. Second even if I were to go over to your house, how would I get in? Your key was stolen, remember? And I doubt your landlady's just going to let me in. I mean…" I trailed off, gesturing to my scruffy attire.

"You're going to break in."

"And like I said, you're insane." Now it was his turn to deliver up the look of annoyance.

"Look Misaki. We need money and you don't have a job at the moment. Not that that matters because we need the money now. Anyways it wouldn't technically be breaking in since you have permission from the owner."

"The bobbies** aren't going to believe me when I'm caught and I use that as my defense. They're going to cart me off to the jug***, not let me drag them all the way here so that I can prove my story. Look, if we need money I'll just go sit in front of a Charring Cross**** and try my hand at begging. I'll fake a limp or wear one of your blood bandages or something. Don't make that face at me mister." I shook my finger at him, "There of tons of other ways to make money besides writing best seller novels. Understand?" He sighed, signaling that I had won.

"Just be careful ok? The constables have been really cracking down on beggars and pickpockets recently. Don't take any risks."

"Yes Mother." Ironic really, from the way he talks to me you wouldn't think that I was the one who had been looking after him his whole life.

"Look at it from my perspective. If you ended up incapacitated in a hotel room and your only chance of paying for the night gets carted off to prison cell, then you would want to be very careful of them wouldn't you?"

"Thank you." My sarcasm lingered in the air as I turned to the door.

"Wait!"

"What!" His hand came up and began to gesture me towards him. Sighing heavily I complied.

"What is it?" He beckoned more and I stepped closer. Suddenly his hand darted forward and clamped mine in a steam grip. At first I resisted but his pouting face proved to be too much for me and I ended up stepping even closer. As soon as I was unbalance though he gave a sharp tug to my arm and I pitched forwards.

"Usagisan! What are y-!" His lips connected with mine in a kiss that was anything but chaste and in surprise I drew back, yanking my hand from his. His face looked disappointed but at that moment I was too disoriented to think. The memory of the manner in which I had woken up this morning flashed across my minds and hurriedly I turned away to hide my flaming cheeks.

"G-good bye Usagisan."

"Good bye Misaki." Damn, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

My hands were shaking as I grasped the knob to the door and with hurried movements I was out the door and sprinting out of the building.

Just what in heaven's name is wrong with that man anyways?

*** Houseboy: The lowest of the low. The servant of the servants. They are the ones who go to bed the latest and wake up the earliest. They get the very filthiest most remedial jobs. Not a fun position to have.**

****Slang for Scotland Yard's police. Also known as the peelers, the gum soles, or even rubber soles. If you're interested, the Scotland Yard's police first started using rubber soles on their shoes during the Jack the Ripper murders. Formerly their soles were made of wood and since police men used to have a distinct route they had to walk in a certain amount of time they obtained a signature measures walk which you could hear from a good ways away.**

***** Slang for prison**

******Charring Cross Station: ****The West-end terminus of the South-Eastern Railway, the upper portion occupied by a large hotel belonging to the company. The ground floor is given up to the booking-offices; that for Continent and main line being on the west, and that for North Kent, &c., on the east side. The custom-house, where registered luggage from the Continent is examined, is at the farther end of the arrival platform… -**_**Charles Dickens (Jr.)**_**, Dickens's Dictionary of London, 1879**

**BTW People, I have a deviantArt and I just uploaded two pics of Misaki. Honestly they aren't that good but I blame my scanner. And my inability to draw proportional heads. *sigh* Anyways, feel free to find me. As always I am ToktelasAndTea.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Junjou Romantica and neither do I own the Victorian age. *sigh***

Akihiko looked down at the garbage strewn street from the vantage point he had obtained by propping himself up on his elbows and gazing through the grime coating the warped glass of the window panes. Across the street a man crouched in the shadows of a doorway, his beady eyes darting over occasionally to leer at the dolly mop spreading her thighs as she posed obscenely against the wet bricks. The sight of her sagging breasts and pimple scared face was enough to turn the noble man's stomach and he quickly averted his eyes. Down the block two men argued in loud voices. He couldn't make out their words, he thought they were speaking in Italian by their accents, but it was not the upper-class sophisticated version of the language that he recognized and he was only able to identify the most simple of word. From what he could comprehend he gathered that the shorter man owed the much larger burlier man some money. Once again though he averted his eyes when he saw the larger man swing an impressive right hook at the head of the shorter.

It seemed though that Misaki wasn't anywhere on the street and he quickly lost interest in the going ons of the outside worlds. Slowly, gritting his teeth at the resulting pain Akihiko slide his body back down onto the rough fabric of the blankets. The mattress creaked in warning as he shifted around trying to get comfortable despite the numerous bumps digging painfully into his back. Of course they were nothing compared to the sharp throbbing currently emanating from his stomach. His eyes wandered up to the ceiling and he gazed in disinterest at the dusty cobwebs layered so thick he would have had to search long and hard if he had wanted an actual glimpse of the wooden ceiling boards. He sighed and turned his head away.

The grey smog that coated the skies of London had grown darker and Akihiko knew that it was getting late. Where was Misaki? Worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach. In his mind he could see his angel's face twisted in fear as the shadow of the burly man he had seen outside cast itself over the smaller's pristine features. No, he shook his head. Misaki was able to take care of himself. He had proven that countless times in the past. It was practically a fact of life. So why was he worried.

He couldn't stop himself from shuffling back up into a sitting position and casting his worried gaze once more over the street. It was fast becoming dark and he knew that soon he would not be able to see a thing. The lamp lighters did not come to this part of the city and the wise did not carry lights of their own. To do so would draw notice to one's self and that was not a desired feature for the inhabitant of London's East End. Only the pubs hung lanterns outside their doors ad of these there were only two on this street.

Presently the inky black outside had become too thick and all the noble was able to make out was his own reflections staring back at him from the dirty glass of the window. He growled in frustration before dipping his fingers first into the bowl of water left at his bed side then snuffing out the candle. The flame that acted as the sole illuminator of his room was quickly extinguished and Akihiko was once again in the dark. His eyes never left the street though and in no time his pupils had dilated enough to allow him to see the occasional silhouettes of figures as they scurried past the inn. None came in though, so his watch continued.

Misaki looked down into the empty recesses of his begging tin. With a deep sigh he turned his gaze back to the pedestrian crowd of London as they passed by him without a second glance. Not two feet from him a porter listened to the instructions of a lady as she handed him her packages while her husband talked in earnest to their teary eyed toddler. Directly in front of him two little girls eagerly pulled at the arms of their governess while behind them two well-dressed gentlemen shook hands as they came to the conclusion of a lengthy negotiation.

Misaki had been watching the crowds outside Charring Cross station all day, doing his best to look decrepit and pitiful. It seemed though no had the time nor patience to spare him anything but the most scalding and disapproving of glares. And to top it all the grey sky above was beginning to border less on grey and more on a dirty charcoal like color.

Finally, giving a sigh of defeat, the teen came to his feet and brushed himself off, not that it did any good. With slumped shoulders and heavy feet he made his way out of the square, hugging the wall so as not to draw attention to himself. It seemed a whole day of avoiding the police just to grovel at the feet of people who couldn't care less was not as rewarding as he had at first thought. And what was he to do now. Go back to Usagisan just so he could be there when they were both kicked out of a room they could not afford?

No, he would not allow that to happen. If Usagisan were to go out there now, in his condition, it would be no different from sending the man straight to the gallows. It seemed he really was going to have to…break into Usagisan's house.

His feet froze in their place and his face went pale as he swallowed painfully. His eyes though never left their view of the filthy cobblestones beneath his tattered shoes. He was really going to have to do this. Whether he wanted to or not. The risk of being caught was nowhere near as great as the certainty of the death that awaited his beloved on the streets of London's slums.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The sidewalks of Kensington were clean, free of trash or excrement. Misaki blinked at them in wonder from his place in the shadows between two gilded streetlights. After almost two weeks spent in the East End such pristine, filth free, streets were like a glass of cold water to his OCD mind. He smiled despite himself and moved forward. Before entering the district he had shed the dirty rags and bandaged he had decorated himself with to bring about peoples charitable opinions, but despite all this he couldn't help but feel insignificant and unworthy in the face of their grand white stoned buildings, their lawns unblemished and their bushes sculpted into elegant shapes.

Up ahead he could see Usagisan's home. A light near the front shone dimly from behind white lace curtains, telling him that the landlady was still up presumably enjoying one last cup of tea before returning to her quarters. Sure enough the light in the front went out and farther back in the house a second light flickered to life. Misaki moved forward down the street, racing from shadow to shadow until he was finally in front of the wrought iron fence that surrounded the property. To others, the fact that Usagisan lived on the second floor might act as some deterrent to their plans of thievery, but to Misaki it made no difference.

With his back now free of the burden of his cloak, he released his wings, sighing in contentment as they unfurled to their full length behind them. Despite the fact they were not flesh and blood but artificial, inside each metal rod and beneath each aluminum and copper plaiting ran hundreds of wires each connected to a nerve making it so that he could feel everything with them, even the uncomfortable cramps of their being too long in captivity against his back.

They were silent save a muffled whoosh of air as he took off from the street and soared over the gate. The alarm system set into it' metal latch, an alarm system designed to give a nasty shock along with sound out a high pitched wail of anybody but the owner where to try to fit a key in did not affect the boy. He flew right over it effortlessly and continued flying until he was hovering outside Akihiko's sitting room window. Curiously he gazed in. Since the move Misaki had not had a chance to acquaint himself with the rabbit's newest living arrangements, something which had unsettled him slightly. The brunette sighed in relief when his emerald gaze landed on the shadowy figure of Suzukisan as the bear sat motionless on the couch.

"To think, even the sight of Usagisan's ridiculous toy obsession can be missed. No, wait. Focus Misaki!" A self-delivered slap to the cheek quickly snapped him out of his short bout of nostalgia and he was off again, the gears on his wings whirling furiously as he went from window to window, trying to lift them unsuccessfully from the sills. He growled in frustration.

"Trust the idiot to keep all his windows locked the _one_ time I need them open. He's never locked them before, so why now." He knew the answer to that already. The stupid rabbit rarely if ever bother with windows at all so the locks were probably all latched from the previous owner. Or perhaps the landlady. '_That does it!'_ he thought furiously as he pulled in vain at the last window. It was time for plan B.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Landing silently in front of the house he made sure to tightly fold up his wings before tugging sharply on the bell pull. Misaki's sensitive ears picked up the chiming of bells from deep within the house in front of him as he brought both hands up to mess up his already tangled hair. He knew already that the blue glow from the street light would cast a sickly pallor over his smudged face but it didn't hurt to add a little more realism to the theatrics he was about to perform.

He stopped though when a series of soft clicks came from the stone pillar next to him and he turned to face it just in time to see a metal cover fall back, revealing shiny brass speaker from which a sleepy voice called out.

"Hello? Who is it?" Adopting his best attempts at a cockney accent he replied.

"Please mu'm, yu've gotta to help me, please!"

"Help you? Why, whatever is the matter?"

"Please, mu'm it hurts. Help me."

"Oh dear! Wait there! I'll be right out!" Misaki couldn't help but smile triumphantly. He hadn't yet made the acquaintance of Usagisan's landlady but from the sound of it, she was just like the rest of the female population. Clueless and easily flustered. This was going to be easy. Still, he hoped he wouldn't have to hurt her.

The sound of a latch being drawn back, along with a series clicks told him that the front door was being unlocked and he quickly threw himself onto the iron bars of the gate just in time for a stunningly red head to peak out from behind the door frame. The woman's eyes flew open in shock and worry as she spotted the slumped figure on her door step and hurrying forward she quickly unlatched the gate. As she neared Misaki's own eyes flew open at the sight of her, although for an entirely different reason. Suddenly it was clear to him why Usagisan had picked this house out of all the ones available. The woman was stunning. Even through the excess fabric of her dressing gown he could see the perfect curves of her figure. Her hair flew back from her face as she raced towards him and he was given an unspoiled view of her wide heavily lashed eyes and the subtle fullness of her ruby red lips. The flawless pale skin interrupted only by the faintest twinge of a blush upon high sculpted cheekbones told the whole story. Suddenly it was no longer and act, Misaki really did feel sick.

"Dear Lord! Are you alright!? Who did this to you?"

"Please…it hurts." Outside he might be cringing in pain with muscles tense and eyebrows drawn together but inside Misaki was turning cartwheels and giving himself high fives. If anyone had asked at that moment his immediate answer would be that yes, he was a genius. His mental cartwheeling immediately stopped though at the woman's next words.

"I should call the guard*! We can't let whoever did this to you go unpunished!"

"No! Wait! Don't do that!" He grasped desperately at her skirts from the kneeing position he had assumed on the ground. She couldn't call the guards, if she did that the whole charade would be ruined! She looked down at him in puzzlement.

"Why ever not?"

"Because…because they was the ones who did this to me!"

"WHAT!" The shriek that escaped the woman's lips was deafening and Misaki was forced to quickly cover his ears.

"Please, don't bring th'm runnin'!" Realizing her mistake she brought her hands up to cover her clamp over her mouth. Misaki couldn't help but compare her blood red nails to the talons belonging to a bird of prey.

"Oh dear, we'd better get you inside." In frantic hurried motions she reached down and grabbed Misaki's arm effectively lifting him up. Doing his best impression of a limp Misaki allowed the red head to support him as they stumbled up the front stairs and into the front hallway letting the gate locked itself behind them.

Like most modern houses the hallway was narrow, so much so in fact that Misaki very nearly upset the umbrella stand and would have sent its contents tumbling onto the floor, he along with it, had not the swift movements of the lady saved them both.

"Be careful!"

"Sorry mu'm." She led them to the back of the house. As they traversed the hallway Misaki took in his surroundings. Against the wall to the left rested a tall and slender mahogany cabinet on top of which rested a gilded framed mirror showing their reflections. Quickly Misaki turned his face away. He never liked his reflection, it was too pale, too scrawny. His eyes were too fishlike and his face to feminine. So instead he diverted his gaze to the green glass lamp shades behind which luminous chemicals burned lighting up the green and black striped wallpaper lining the hallway.

At the end of the hallway they past a wide staircase accompanied with an ornate banister and behind this we came to a door partially hidden behind a potted laurel tree**, standing bushy and proud in its Greco roman pot. The door opened to reveal _another_ hallway, this one darker, and less decorated and at the end of this one was _another_ door.

Misaki was forced to blink several times as they entered into the next room. Save the black finish of the cast iron oven the whole place was a blinding white, from the tiles coating every available surface, to the floor to ceiling cabinets, to the racks lined with copper cooking utensils and china.

The woman had left him to be supported by the door as she began to bustle about in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards and peering over shelves.

"Oh bully, I know it's somewhere around here." Despite his natural dislike of the woman, Misaki had to stop himself from walking over to assist her. Damn him and his eternally helpful nature.

"Umm…what exactly is it you're looking for?"

"This!" With a flourish the woman whipped out a medium sized white metal box adorned with a red cross on its front. "Now come over and sit on the table young man. We must address your wounds." Misaki looked incredulously at the pristine surface of the table.

"I dunno know mu'm. Your table seems v'ry clean."

"Oh pui," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, "No one uses that thing anyways."

"Really, but watta 'bout the cook?"

"Cook? What cook? We get our food delivered." Now it was the woman's turn to be the receiver of the disbelieving look.

"But tha's so expensive!" The red head shot him a suspicious glance.

"Tell me, why do you care." Misaki swallowed. Of course he cared. Anything concerning the wellbeing of that stupid rabbit he had made his business. Which might be slightly pretentious of him, but he did care about the man and he certainly did not want him spending his money recklessly. The noble would never survive if he became broke and was forced to sleep on the streets. So of course he cares. He just wasn't about to tell this woman, who happened to be living in the same house as the object of his affection, that. He looked down at his feet, not being able to look the redhead in the eye as he mumbled out his reply.

"Well, I…um…Ah'm sorry mu'm. It's jussa shock. I d'n't realize that rich folk like you could live like tha'." When he next looked up the woman was gazing at him with a softened and piteous look. He curled his fist tightly against his sides. He hated that look. He didn't need anyone's pity. He continued the charade with a smile though. He needed the money after all, if he ever wanted to return Akihiko to wellness again that is.

"Now come over here young man, and let me care for your injuries." The brunette didn't move from where he had frozen at the door frame. Ok, this was bad. Now what was he going to do? It wasn't like he was actually injured and he couldn't exactly tell that to the woman. He needed his distraction. It should be here any second now. Looking puzzled, the woman took a step towards him…

…When suddenly the sound of a large explosion resounded throughout the house, rattling the china on the wall.

"Good heaven! What on earth!?"

"Bloody Hell! What was that?!"

"You stay here! I'm going outside to find the source of that awful explosion!"

"Yes mu'm. Trust me, I won't move an inch!" A dog had begun to howl, adding to the cacophony of shouts and screams coming from in front of the house. Before he could blink the woman was down dashing down the hallway and around the corner. As soon as he heard the click of the front door closing he was following her, save that his path led him up the great flight of stairs he had seen upon first coming into the entrance hall.

The second story landing was bare, save a small painting of a landscape tucked into a shadowy corner. The same could not be said though for the room he entered after throwing open the unlocked door. For a second he stopped, and emerald eyes widened as he gazed around in awe. The brief glimpse he had had of through the windows outside had not prepared him for this at all.

The place was a pig sty.

The tables, couch, and chairs were piled high with piles upon piles of papers, some cascading onto the floor, joining their compatriots in concealing the carpet beneath Misaki's feet. These papers, each one covered back to back in small elegant scribbles, were joined unceremoniously by wrinkled articles of cloths, up turned tea cups, severely creased, month old newspapers, and hundreds upon hundreds of stuffed bears. For a second Misaki was tempted to damn the whole thing and turn around and leave. But he squared his shoulders and directed his eyes away from the chaos.

Only to have his eyes land on an oddly lumpy stain on the wall.

Misaki groaned.

And then shuddered.

The brave boy squared his shoulders and stepped into the war zone.

He began to wonder where the idiot keeps his spare change. He desperately hoped it's not in the pile of…stuff he is practically wadding through at the moment. "_No, it's not that bad_," he told himself, although Misaki has a strong suspicion that unless someone does something soon, it could become _that_ bad. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would be the servant assigned to the care of Akihiko's rooms, so he knows how tedious the task of cleaning up after the man can be. It's no wonder the lazy noble never does it himself. Still, in all the years he had known the youngest son of the Usami family, he has never had to concern himself with Akihiko's money, so now he is completely at a loss.

Despite his lack of knowledge though, he is aware that the man is rich and can afford a safe so he has some idea where the money is. The man's not a complete nut case. Right? He has some idea of the worth of money, so he wouldn't leave it just sitting around. So there must be a safe. Now if he were a safe where would he be?

The first place he checked is the bookcases near the fire place, a fire place which looks like it hasn't been lite in ages. Honestly the man had no instinct of self-preservation. Unless there was someone there scolding him into eating at least twice a day, Akihiko would go days without food. Misaki furrows his brow as he straightened up from looking at the lower shelves of the book case. The furrow comes partly from annoyance at the fruitlessness of his search and partly from concern for his beloved. He shook his head though and told himself to concentrate on finding the money. A quick glance at the mantel piece revealed to him a small glass covered clock, its gears and clogs naked to the eye spelling out clearly how late it had gotten. The landlady at the small inn he had left Usagi at would surely be coming up to collect her four pence soon. He needed to hurry.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Akihiko was beyond worried now. The boy was still not back and if he didn't return soon the silver haired man was going out to look for him, stomach wound or not. He looked down at the stained rags he had wrapped around his abdomen. It wasn't hurting that bad now, at least, not if he didn't think about it. And he didn't have to concentrate too hard on it, not when his mind was mind was too preoccupied with coming up with various nightmarish situations his angel could have come across. Perhaps some drunk at a bar had mistaken him for a girl, understandable when the boy owned such feminine features. Or perhaps he had been caught by the yard and thrown in a cell. A cell already occupied with the other good for nothing thugs that had been locked up for the night. And perhaps those bastards had noticed his too sweet face and had decided to entertain themselves until morning. Perhaps they were taking advantage of Misaki right now!

Sometimes he cursed himself for having such an active writer's imagination. But it's not like he had anything better to do. Not after being trapped within these four walls for almost twenty four hours now.

God damn it! Where was Misaki! He had been gone far too long! Just who did he think he was? Keeping an earl waiting? Just who…

…Akihiko threw a hand over his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. He was losing it. It was his defense mechanism. When worried, sad, scared, whatever, he would push down his distressing feelings and cover them with a thin layer of ice. His hard, cold nature would come out and he would be cruel to those around him. But he couldn't do that to Misaki. Anyone but Misaki. Misaki was his guardian, his angel. Despite the fact that he had only been introduced to him last night, he had known the boy his whole life. Misaki didn't deserve that. Damn it all, Misaki deserved a bloody palace of solid gold walls for the unwavering service he had shown. A bitter smile pulled at Akihiko's cheeks. Something told him that it wasn't material splendors that the boy was after. No Misaki was too good, too pure, too much like an angel to ever be happy with wealth and treasure.

A creak on the floorboards of the landing outside made Akihiko freeze in the darkness of the rented room. The landlady was here.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

"What in heaven's name are you doing boy!?"

Misaki froze one hand in the recesses of the safe. He had found it eventually, behind an extremely pastel oil painting of a teddy bear. The lock had been easy. He had mastered the art of lock picking years ago. It seemed his ability to plan distractions though still left a bit to be desired. The redhead was back and if the look in her eye was anything to go by, she was here slaughter him and feed him to the hounds of hell.

"I don't believe it! Get your hand out of there this instant!" Misaki's hand closed tighter in the fist full of notes he had grabbed.

"I'm sorry mu'm…you see, I, um-"

"I don't want your explanations! I want you to let go of those at once! I'm calling the guards! Don't you dare try to do anything!" She was shrieking now and Misaki could have sworn that her fiery red locks had actually caught fire, but he stood firm despite the fact that for the first time in at least a decade he could feel his knees shaking in fright.

"I can't do that mu'm. I really can't, I'm sorry." She began to stalk towards him, her hands on her hips and her eyes shooting flames. Nervously Misaki gulped and quickly stuffed his loot into his trouser pocket. Letting go off the bills he curled his fingers around the handle of his pocket knife. Quick at a flash he flipped it open and in a flash he was holding it to the neck, the gleaming blade pressing own on the tender flesh above her artery. Her breath caught and she froze.

"I really am sorry. It wasn't supposed to go this way. I really don't want to hurt you." Silence fell upon the room at his words as neither of them dared move nor breathe or risk something drastic and irreversible happening. Finally the woman drew in a shaky breath and spoken.

"Your accent's gone."

"Oh, sorry about that. I'm not actually from London you see so it was fake from the very beginning."

"And you're not actually injured are you."

"No, not really. I just acted that way to get into your house. But you're going to be injured soon unless you do what I tell you."

"You're a bloody thief, why should I do what you say."

"Well pardon me mu'm, but I've got my knife set to cut your throat. And don't think she won't. I sharpened her this past Thursday in fact."

"What a bizarre conversation to be having with a thief."

"I suppose, but I'm not really that bad of a thief mu'm. I only took enough to bribe the driver. Nothing more. Honest."

"The driver? What on earth are you speaking of?"

"None of your business mu'm. Now if you would just stand quiet, I need to escape. That's right, just like that. I really am a wicked shot at knife throwing." Keeping his front facing the woman, and his hand up with the handle of the knife cocked just so, he began to back up towards the window. Unfortunately though he got about ten steps before there was a crunch as foot landed on a tea cup and he shattered the bone china beneath his heel. For a split second his concentration wavered as his gazed flickered down to survey the damage, and the redhead took her chance. Misaki's eye's widened and with a shriek the lady threw herself at him. In an attempt to avoid her outstretched hands, which had begun to once again bear an uncanny resemblance to claws, Misaki began to fall backwards.

Glass shattered as he went through the windows. Suddenly the narrowed eyes, showing ferocious anger, widened as they filled with panic and desperation. Hands that before has sought to claw at the skin of his face swiped desperately in the air, missing their target by inches. He was falling, plummeting towards the pavement of the front walkway and there was nothing she could do. Her breath suddenly caught in her throat though as, with a snap, great wings unfurled from his back and suddenly the boy was airborne. For a second she was stunned at the magnificent appendages began to move and before she knew what was happening the boy was flying off into the night. Seeing this she snapped out of her trance and was able to send a string of curse words after him as his silhouette disappeared over the darkened roofs of London.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The landlady smelled horrible. Somewhere between sausages that had been left out too long and stale whiskey. Akihiko wrinkled his nose as he took in her appearance. The sight reminded him of a corpse as it decomposed beneath a pile of dirty rags. The skin on her face was a mess of boils and warts, her stringy hair falling in front concealing the gaping hole where her nose used to be. The silver aired man shrank against the bed as she opened her mouth and the pungent miasma of her breath washed over him. It was all Akihiko could do to not gag at the sight of her swollen and rotten gums.

"Four p."

"Pardon."

"Four pence. Or leave."

Akihiko went pale. Misaki was too late and he was being thrown out. Maybe though he could he could charm his way out of this?

"You couldn't throw a wounded man out in the cold would you?" She only glared at him. The noble shot her his most charming smile. "Let me stay ten more minutes?"

"Look bastard, either you give me my four p or I kick you out by the seat of your trousers. And don't you go smiling at me like that. None of your fancy looks is going to change my mind."

"Won't you wait a little longer? My friend will be here soon and with him will be at least twenty times your request." Contrary to the authors wishes though she began to advance towards the bed, extracting a solid looking cane from the filthy rags of her skirt. "What are you-?"

With a sharp crack the stick connected with the nobles forehead causing him to cry out in pain and indignation. The old hag was definitely stronger than she looked, a fact only confirmed by the second whack and then the next one after that. Each hit reverberated throughout his frame sending searing lightning bolts up pain up and down his spine.

"Ow! Careful with that!"

"Get out of here you damn shirker***!"

"Ok, ok! I'm leaving!"

Instantly the beating stopped and the stick returned to its place within the fold of the landlady's skirts. The glare though didn't cease and so Akihiko found himself against his will pushing himself up on his elbows and gingerly sliding himself off the bed. A hiss escaped his clenched teeth as he pushed himself up into a semi-upright position. As waves of pain traveled through him from their origin in his abdomen he managed to stagger over to the wall where he propped himself up and looked around the room.

The magnitude of the situation stuck him then. He had no shoes, they had been taken at the mugging. He had not shirt. It had been torn up to make bandages. His wallet was gone and he had a hole torn into his stomach. But worst of all his guardian angel was gone, probably somewhere across town, and he was being ejected from his only form of safety into a situation where he was sure to die in a few minute.

Fuck.****

*Guards: Many street of Kensington were, and still are, gated communities with armed guards patrolling the streets. The result of this is that there aren't many pictures of the neighbors from back then making my job just that much harder. *groan*

**Laurel Tree: It is traditional to hide the entrance and windows to a kitchen behind a laurel tree. Although this was mainly the case in mansions it happened occasionally in London's town houses. The whole idea was to hide the kitchen from the residents of the house, giving them the idea that the food was just magically being set down on the table with no preparation and hard work what so ever. After all, to a high class person, the idea of life having work in it was preposterous.

***Shirker: Slang for freeloader. Although I actually have a feeling it's American slang. Maybe the landlady has an American cousin?

****Fuck: Yes this term was used back then. Believe it or not, it's actually Latin for putting a seed in the ground.

**Has anyone read todays Hark a Vagrant comic? If not, or if you have no idea what I'm talking about, go to harkavagrant . com.**


	4. Chapter 4

**And here we are. The long anticipated fourth chapter. Let the steam power begin.**

**Disclaimer: seeing as how my plan to sneak into an anime is currently still in its planning process, I do not yet own any Junjou Romantica characters. The steamy ideas are all mine though. (No, not that kind of steamy you perverts.)**

"Driver, stop here,"

The horses came to a halt and I jumped from the hansom, the door banging against the side of the hansom from the force of my push. I looked up in panic. The light to Usagi-san's room was out.

The stairs creaked loudly under my feet as I rushed up them and down the hallway, the wad of money tucked safely into my pocket. I threw open the door to our room.

"Usagi-san!"

I froze.

It was empty.

Usagi-san wasn't there.

Back through the hallway, down the stairs and out the door; I only stop once more. My feet sent up splashes from the murky puddle that served as the doorstep. My hair whipped against my face as I frantically turned my head, looking to the shadows on either side of me. I couldn't see a thing though, the blackness of London's slum impenetrable without the aid of a lantern.

"Usagi-san!" Silence, and then…

"Here," It was no more than a hoarse whisper coming from behind me. I spun around and squinted my eyes against the darkness. Slowly a silhouette began to emerge, that of a man, almost bent double as one hand held his stomach while the other leant heavily against the wall. My heart tightened painfully in my chest at the sight of dull grey locks.

"Usagi-san!" I jumped forward and immediately, he slumped against me, all his weight collapsing against my slender frame.

"Usagi-san, you're freezing!" A thin film of sweat coated his pale shoulders. _Too_ pale. Silently I cursed that hag of a land lady for sending this man out in the middle of winter with nothing to warm him but a pair of trousers. "Come on now; let's get you into the hansom. We'll have you home in no time." I began to shuffle us back, towards the waiting cab.

"Misaki," I stopped, and waited for him to continue. His voice was raspy, as if he was using most of his breath just to remain standing. Which was most likely the truth.

"Misaki," he began again, "You came."

"Of course I came, Usagi-san. I always come." From where his face rested against the crook of my neck I could feel his lips as they curled into a smile.

"Yes…you always do."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+

"Here driver, this is the house."

The wheels slowly came to a stop and this time it was with some effort that I managed to coordinate getting the door open and at the same time keep Usagi-san upright in his seat.

"Come on Usagi-san. We're here, just a short walk inside." He looked at me from beneath his sweaty gray fringe. His eyes were unfocused and his skin ashen. His cheeks were flushed a bright scarlet. Once again I cursed the landlady for her cold heart. It seemed Usagi-san's fever had returned, worse than ever. "Come on now, mind your head." Swiftly I got out of the hansom then turned back to catch Usagi-san as he more fell than climbed through the door.

After a short struggle I managed to keep him upright, my efforts not at all aided by the fact that he was at least a full foot taller than me. And he weighed as much as a circus elephant did.

"Oi!" I turned to look at the driver, annoyed at him for interrupting me when I quite literally had my hands full.

"What?" He stretched his hand at me, palm up.

"W're's me pay?" Oh, right, I had offered fifteen pounds for the ride to Whitechapel and fifteen for the ride back here. Damn money grubber. Usually it was only a shilling, but no, to go that far into East End he needed some compensation. Insurance as he called it. Grumbling I dug into my pocket and pulled out the rest of the money. I held it out to him, no way was I moving forwards, not with Usagi leaning so heavily against my side. If he wanted it, he was going to have to come to me.

Mumbling about poor manners and disrespect to elders under his breath, the driver got off, grabbed the money and mounted his perch once more. And then with a clatter of hooves he was gone, down the street and out of sight. Good riddance.

"Misaki…"

"Yeah, let's get inside." Slowly, each movement being carefully calculated in order to jostle the man as little as possible, we turned around to face the house. My stomach sank into my toes. The lights were still on. It was well past midnight and yet all the lights in the front parlor were blazing. I gulped nervously.

At an excruciatingly slow pace we made our way to the front gate and with a trembling hand I rang the bell. Where had my nerve gone? I felt as if my courage had flown away bringing with it all the nerve I had the last time I was facing this metal gate. Now though, instead of the flipping of a small metal hatch in the close by pillar, the front door flew open and the figure of a vengeful flaming goddess appeared in the doorway.

"You!"

"I…um…good evening Miss."

"You thief! You dare to steal from my house and then appear again at my front step?! The nerve!"

"Well…I…um…"

"Aikawa." His voice was firm stopping her in her tracks.

"Usami-san? What are you-?" She looked flabbergasted for a moment, entirely taken aback not only by his presence but by his appearance too. She snapped back into her fury though and once again wheeled on me. As she spoke the gate slowly opened, ridding me of my last defense against the avenging harpy.

"What have you done to him, you scum?!"

"I didn't—I—"

"Well, I'm waiting…" She crossed her arms across her ample chest and glared down at me like some kind of demon from the pits of hell. I shrank beneath her burning scowl.

"Well, I—um."

"Leave Misaki alone Aikawa."

"But Usami-san, he—"

"I don't want to hear it."

"But—"

"In the morning, Aikawa." She gave a huff and let her arms relaxed. I sighed in relief, it seemed she had given up her fight. I turned my head to look at Usagi-san worriedly. All that talking must have put a tremendous strain on him. I could feel him shaking against me, my side almost soaked through from the sweat coming off his body. His eyes were almost entirely closed, his mouth open, taking in quick gulping breaths. This wasn't good, not good at all.

"Here, let me take him." It seemed this Aikawa cared more about him than she did about castrating me. With hands outstretched she advanced and reluctantly I offered him up, taking care as I slid his arm over her shoulder. For such a slender a woman she was strong and I watched as she managed to get him up the walkway. The front door was still open and she dragged him in, the man on her shoulder no longer able to gather the strength even to move his feet. I followed close behind, my eyes trained entirely on Akihiko's slumped figure ready to catch him in case he began to slip. It was for this reason that I did not realize the door was closing until there remained only a sliver of light shining out from the gas-lit hallway.

"Hey! What are you-?"

"Go home, rat!" And with a bang the door slammed shut in my face.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Gradually my eyelids fluttered open, only for me to snap them shut at the sudden onslaught of pain brought on by the piercing light that flooded my retinas. I groaned and tried to roll over only to be stopped by the feel of a calloused hand on my shoulder.

"Good morning, young man. It's high time you finally woke up." My only response was another groan. My throat felt like sandpaper, my tongue parched and swollen, sticking to the sides of my mouth. Still I managed to rasp out my one word question.

"Misaki…?"

"Japanese? Honestly young man, you are in Britain now, and if I am to understand correctly, you have been for quite a while. So speak like a civilized human being." This time I managed to keep my eyes opened, if only so that I might glare at this unpleasant man.

My sight was met by the wiry figure of what looked to be a doctor, if the stethoscope was anything to go by. A sterile white coat was opened in the front to reveal a neat pin striped grey waistcoat and atop his shiny bald head were perched a set of goggles, consisting almost entirely of dozens of different lenses, each of them varying in colors and shape. One of the multiple lenses attached to a metal arm had been pulled down so that it covered one of the man's eyes, enlarging it and transforming it into a sickly green hue. Looking beyond him I realized I was back in my room, a fact only confirmed by the wall of toys arranged behind the balding doctor. Behind his head, stood Aikawa, her hands clasped together in worry but a relieved smile lighting up her face. There was no Misaki. My gaze turned back to the doctor.

"…What…time...?" To my immense relief he held up a glass of water to my chapped lips.

"It is precisely nine o'clock in the morning." I tried to sit up; maybe Misaki was just out of my line of sight. This time instead of impeding my movements the doctor held me steady as I managed to push myself into a sitting position. The numerous pillows against my back were heaven compared to that stinking cot at the inn.

"I have stitched up your stomach but I still forbid you from leaving this bed. You must rest for at least twenty more days before I come back to take out the stitches. Until then, sitting up is going to be the most you will be doing. You're lucky the wound wasn't too deep; otherwise the delay you took in calling me would have killed you. I could see that somebody attempted to wrap your wound, and though the job was done semiprofessionally the bandages themselves still held much to be desired." Well that was all fine and dandy, now where was Misaki? Had he just stepped out of the room for a moment? It was amazing how much his presence weighed on my mind now that I had finally met him.

"Now, you see these?" He held up a small bottle decorated in fancy script I had no interest in reading. "I want you to take one with a glass of water every four hours. Understood?" His lopsided eyes looked at me with the patience you might show to a four year old. It seemed that there was yet another person who had misunderstood my fascination with toys. Or maybe his treating me this way had to do with my Nippon ancestry. At that point I really didn't give a damn.

"Misaki?"

"What, more of this ridiculous Japanese? Speak English, boy." I turned the full force of my glare on him.

"You want English? Tell me where Misaki is."

"He's not here." The one to speak was Aikawa.

"What do you mean, 'he's not here'?"

"Like I said, he left."

"Misaki does _not_ just leave." I was speaking through my teeth now as I glared at her. The doctor just looked back and forth between us, confused.

"I refuse to allow gutter scum into my house."

"What did you call him?!" Lightning flashed between us as we each tried to stare the other down.

"Gutter scum. He's nothing more than a filthy rat, a god forsaken street gypsy! He tricked me and then broke into your safe. Creatures such as him aren't worth the air they breathe." I was breathing heavily now. How dare she?! How fucking dare she!

"He broke into the safe under my orders." For a split second she looked taken aback then managed to collect herself.

"He tore a hole in your stomach!"

"No, some drunk with a knife tore a hole in my stomach! He saved me from dying on the streets of Whitechapel!" Now she really did look shocked. "He took me to an inn and faithfully bandaged my wounds and nursed my fever. And you call him gutter scum. _You_ woman, are not worth the air you breath. Now tell me. _Where. Is. He_?"

"I-I don't know." And with that she fled the room a stricken look painted across her features. I turned to the doctor.

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"GET OUT!" And in a rush of gray fabric and gleaming noggin he was gone from my room, leaving me alone, wonder how in the hell I was to bring my angel back to me.

**Hah! Bet you thought the doctor would be Nowaki. Seems you're just going to have to wait though. He and Hiroki have a big part to play much later. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I just finished watching Black Belt Jones. Am still recovering. Plans to steal the rights to Junjou Romantica have been put on hold.**

I sighed in frustration as I leaned back against the metal headboard of my king-sized bed. The newspaper someone had been kind enough to place on my bed side table told me that three days had passed since Misaki had been shut out. Three days I had been delirious with fever. Where was he now? How was he faring? The last of the money had been spent on the cab ride. Was he getting enough to eat? Had he found somewhere away from the rain where he could spend his nights. Curse that demoness for shutting him out. Curse her once and then curse her again. I had only just met Misaki and now I had lost him. What was I to do now? Try to get myself run over by an omnibus and hope he arrives in time? Misaki has never been far from me for the entirety of my life.

He couldn't be far now…could he?

It had been ten minutes since Aikawa left and I was still in far too foul a mood to call her back. So with effort I leaned over and forced up the window that was next to my bed. Lightning bolts of pain shot from my stomach and I prayed that none of the stitches tore. It felt like no one had opened this window in the last hundred years but somehow I managed to pry it up. A shower of paint chips cascaded down to the flowerbed below, which explained somewhat the effort I had to exert into opening the damn thing. Some idiot had painted the window shut and then never bothered to open it after that.

Breathing heavily I stuck my head out and took deep gulps of the freezing winter air. Finally, when my breath returned to normal and my limbs stopped feeling like jelly I opened my mouth to summon my angel.

"Misaki!" Below a passing gentleman shot me a quick look then hurried his walk before disappearing out of sight. Good, if this crazy idea did work and Misaki did come in my window, I didn't want any witnesses. After waiting a few minutes and nothing happened I tried again.

"MISAKI!"Silently I strained my ears. Where was it, there was that signature flapping? From far away I could hear the shouts and clatter of the road and closer still I could hear the throaty calls of crows. In the house next door someone was playing piano, but nowhere could I hear the sound of wind as it passed through synthetic feathers. I closed my eyes and concentrated harder. Come on Misaki. Hear my call. I need you.

And then there it was, faintly coming from above my head. Swiftly I looked up, and like a messenger of god he lowered himself to my level until he was flapping in place just a foot or two in front of my window. From this distance I could clearly see deep purple bruises above thin cheeks. His hair was clumped with dirt and rags were wrapped around his limbs in what I assumed was a vain attempt to keep warm. Wide peridot eyes stared at me in apprehension. Despite his appearance though a smile of relief spread across my face.

"Misaki, you came."

"I always come." There were no words truer than those.

"Well? Are you going to come inside?" His green eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in suspicion.

"You're finally letting me in?"

"Look Misaki, it wasn't-"

"It's been three days. You said I could stay with you."

"I only just woke up from my fever fifteen minutes ago." His look returned to that of surprise which quickly morphed into worry.

"Are you alright now? How's your stomach? Did you get stitches? Aren't you cold with the window open? Did your fever get too hi-?"

"Misaki, Misaki, calm down. Come inside and I'll explain everything. Besides, it should be you who's worried about being cold." Which was the truth. As he came closer I could see the tips of his fingers turning blue. It was painful to watch as he tried to bend them around the window frame to hoist himself inside. Once again I watched in awe as his wings returned back to their metal sheaths in his back once he got his knee balanced on the window sill. I was bringing my hands up to help him in when suddenly his eyes slid out of focus and he fell face first into my chest.

"Ack! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He jumped back and landed on his derriere at the opposite end of the bed. It took me a second to recover from the shock. I felt like I had just been rammed into full force by a block of ice. Misaki took that second to scramble off my bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean too! I just felt a little dizzy. I won't do it again!" He was waving his hands in front of himself and quickly I grabbed onto them, pulling him towards me. I flinched at the practically subzero nature of his body. His skin against mine was clammy, like a dead fish and the rags surrounding covering him not only damp but in some parts stiff with ice.

"You're freezing! Don't you dare worry about me when you're practically an ice sculpture!"

"Usagi-san! Let me go! I'll make you all dirty!" I growled.

"As if I care about that! Now get on the bed and let me warm you up."

"I can't do that!" His voice had gone up an octave in his desperation, "I've been sleeping in a gutter for three days! I'll give you fleas!"

"As if any insect could survive at this temperature. Now come here. And that's an order." With both hands around his waist I heaved him up onto the bed. Actually it was less of a heave and more of a simple pull, he was so light.

"God you're a light weight. I feel like I'm picking up a bird." At that his blue tinted lips formed into the cutest pout I had ever seen.

"It's not my fault! I was just made with hollow bones! Now let me go!" I gritted my teeth in frustration.

"Really? That's fascinating. Oi, stop struggling, you're going to make me pull a stitch." Immediately he went still.

"Oh god! Are you alright? I didn't mean to! Where does it hu-?"

Swiftly I cut him off with a heated kiss, my lips moving against his at a furious pace. At first I wanted to move away, his lips were that cold, but in no time the licks and gentle bites made the heat return to his face. He groaned and seizing the opportunity I stuck my tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth. Eventually though the need for air seized us both and I was forced to pull away. Panting I leaned my forehead against his and for a minute neither of us moved as we looked into each other's eyes. Too soon though he opened his mouth and the moment ended.

"Why did y-?"

"Because your lips were blue. You've warmed up, haven't you?"

"I have, haven't I?"

"Yes you have."

"So I guess there's no more reason for me to be on your bed." I groaned at his stubbornness and tightened my hold on his waist.

"No, you're staying right here."

"Why?" The blush decorating the cheeks of his bewildered face was too much to bear. Ducking forward I planted another kiss to his unguarded lips before quickly pulling away.

"Because I like having Misakis on my lap."

"Oh." He turned his head away, trying to hide the intense flush currently making his cheeks glow a bright cherry red. The blush only intensified, if that was even possible, when the silence was suddenly broken by the loud growl of an empty stomach.

"Are you hungry?" My question came out teasingly and I knew I was toying with him now, but his reactions were too cute to allow me to do otherwise.

"No." I almost laughed at the seriousness he put into his denial.

"When did you last eat?"

"An hour ago." I frowned at that. Was he lying?

"What did you eat?"

"Well, I…um…" Finally, the truth comes out. "I found some bread crust behind the bakers, but…um…someone got there before me, so...there wasn't exactly very much left." He was looking down at his hands now as he twisted them worriedly. My anger though wasn't directed at him.

"And before that, when did you last eat."

"I…uh…can't remember. I think the day before I found you?" He looked at me hopefully.

"AIKAWA!" There was a clatter of dishes from behind my bedroom door. Had she been _eavesdropping_? Insufferable woman, couldn't she mind her own business? The door creaked open and her head poked in.

"Yes?"

"Food."

"I was just about to bring you some. If you could just learn a little patience." I glared at her and she glared right back. Now it was Misaki's turn to look between us, frightened.

"I'm sorry. If I'm in the way I'll-"

"Sit next to me." Seeing that Aikawa was carrying a tray meant to be placed in front of me on the bed he had begun to move off my lap but hearing my firm command he quickly sat down on the part of the bed between me and the wall, as far away as he could. With one arm around his waist I pull him over, ignoring the resulting pain, until he was being pressed to my side. His wrapped arms around his knees and tried to take up as little room as possible.

"Usagi-san! It's bad enough I was sitting on your blanket, but I don't want to get your sheets dirty too."

"Misaki, I own a house in Kensington, and am one of the most famous authors in the British Empire. You think I don't have enough money to own an extra pair of sheets."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." My tone was gentle now as I began to softly rub my thumb against his side, trying to sooth his nervousness. I could feel the sharpness of his ribs protruding from the skin beneath his thin shirt and my mood regained its former sourness. Aikawa moved to place the tray in front of me.

"Go get some more, Misaki needs something to eat too." Aikawa flinched, causing the silverware to clatter against the china plate.

"Usagi-san! Be nice!" Turning to Aikawa he plastered a plastic smile across his face, and I could feel him begin to shake against my side. He was obviously afraid of the woman after the way she had treated him before. Aikawa looked at him and offered up an apologetic smile.

"Your name is Misaki right?" He nodded hesitantly, "I'm going to have to apologize for my former rudeness. It was honestly a misunderstanding. Is there any way I could make it up to you?" Misaki's smile became more natural and he quickly shook his head.

"No really, it was my fault. Your reaction was entirely understandable. I have to apologize for pressing my knife to your throat. I really didn't want to hurt you." They were both smiling genuinely now, and I watched in wonder at the friendly nature of their conversation. How did two people who had just a minute ago looked like a lion confronting a mouse suddenly become the best of friends?

"Dear me, that was no fault of your own. It's not as if you could have explained to me why you needed money and I would have just given it to you. You really didn't have a choice."

"No, I suppose I didn't."

"To make up for the way I treated you, how about I bring up a new French dessert I just bought."

"Oh, no, I couldn't take away your food like that."

"Really it's no trouble. I bought too many and Usami-san hates sweets." It was like I wasn't even in the room. Beside me, Misaki's eyes gained a tender, knowing light and suddenly I was entranced, watching him as he conversed with my landlady. Suddenly I couldn't wait to get her out of the room.

"Well, if you insist."

"Oh, but I do! Now wait here, I won't be a moment."

"Thank you."

"No, thank _you_!" And with that she was gone from the room. I ran a hand down my face.

"Thank god for the English." Misaki looked at me puzzled.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's nothing really; we just seem to be unable to hold a conversation without at least ten apologies in it."

"Oh, well…um…I'm sorry."

"Misaki."

"Sor—I mean, I'm…um…not sorry?

"You're hopeless." He had his lips pressed firmly together now with his cheeks puffed slightly out, steadfast in his determination to not apologize. He looked just a tad like a chipmunk and much too cute for his own good. I pressed a chaste kiss to the thin lines that was his lips, only to pull away when something caught my eye.

"Misaki, where are your shoes." I could clearly recall him having a worn pair of boots while we had stayed at the inn. Now in their place was nothing but dirty bundles of worn fabric.

"They got stolen while I was sleeping. I tried to tie some rags around my feet, but it didn't really work." He wiggled his bluish toes nervously as we both stared down at his feet.

"There are some wool socks in the top drawer in my wardrobe, go put them on, and then come back and stick your feet under the blanket, I have one of those new steam pads under there. If you would fill it with water, it should work ok."

"I can't do that Usagi-san! They're your sox, not mine!"

"Don't argue with me Misaki. And while you're over there, put my robe on too." Looking at me nervously he quietly climbed around the tray table and off the bed. Picking his way around the toys; he approached the japanned(1) mahogany wardrobe that stood on the opposite side of the sea of toys. He nervously turned the key and opened it, almost like he expected a full grown tiger to jump out at him from within its depths.

Inside each door was a full-length mirror allowing me to see his look of surprise as he froze in front of his reflection. The shock though was quickly replaced with a look of first hatred and then an acute sadness, so profound that it made my own heart squeeze painfully in my chest upon seeing it. For the first time I saw a brokenness in his eyes, as if something inside him had shattered long ago and had never been repaired. I was paralyzed by the sight of it, but at the same time feeling like I needed to cry out in a desperate wail of despair. Finally though he flinched away and focused his attention on my top drawer, pulling it out in order to gently to inspect its contents.

"Your drawer is a mess Usagisan. How do you possible find anything in the morning?"

"I don't worry about it, or at least, I won't be worrying about it." He turned around and looked at me puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"As of right now, I'm hiring you as my valet." The shocked look on his face was comical to say the least. I felt far from laughing though.

"Y-you are?"

"Yes, I am."

"W-why, I mean-"

"Because I want to." His eyebrows came together in a frown.

"You do a lot of things because you want to. I'm beginning to think it's not very good for your health."

"Why, do you not want to be my valet? You were complaining earlier about my not having any servants."

"That was just because it was hard to get close to you."

"Well, being my valet is the closest you are going to be able to get."

"I suppose."

"Come on Misaki, be my valet."

"No man is a hero to his valet."(2)

"I don't mind sharing my secrets with you."

"Well I suppose you do need someone to pick up after you. You're like an over grown child."

"See, I need you Misaki." '_And you need me'_, I silently added. "You aren't just going to leave a man in need."

"Well…I suppose not."

"So?"

"So, I…um…ok."

"Good, you shall have fifty pounds a week to start out with and will begin at once." His eyes widened in a truly horrified manner.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No I will _not_ have fifty pounds a week."

"Misaki, be reasonable. Do you really want to be the only unpaid valet in England? I refuse to keep a slave."

"Then I can't be your valet."

"Misaki, think logically."

"No, I refuse to take your money." God damn it! What did he have to be so stubborn all the time? I'm just trying to help him!

"Then I don't give you money."

"What do you mean?" He was looking ridiculous, his feet spread wide and his fists clenched as if ready for a fight. In one of his child sized hands he clutched an oversized wool sock, the other already on his foot. And like the sock he had pooled around his ankle, the robe he had engulfing his shoulders was spilling onto the ground. His face was adorable though, his cheeks puffed out in a pout and his nostrils flared with rage. Little red splotched of anger marred his cheeks and his eyes flashed in his determination to win.

"Come here Misaki." Warily he approached the bed, when suddenly his eyes slid out of focus and he fell forward. Luckily I was able to catch him in time and holding him against my chest. I whispered in a low voice so that my warm breath tickled the shell of his ear. He shivered against me and I knew it was not because of the cold.

"You _will_ be my valet, and in exchange I shall supply room and board along with anything else you should desire."

"W-what are you talking about Usagisan? You don't even own the house."

"I do own the first floor though."(3)

"But—"

"Well, if you want to leave you can. If your home in the gutter really means that much to you then I won't stop you." I released my grip on him, raising my hands in the air in a show of surrender. To my satisfaction, he didn't move an inch.

"Well I…I mean…"

"You're so adorable, Misaki."

"I am not. I'm forty three years old! I can't _be_ adorable!"

"Does that mean you don't want to be my valet?" His voice was muffled from the way he was pressing his face to the left side of my chest. I couldn't help but marvel at the way he seemed to fit there so perfectly, as if we were two parts of a clock, built to work together. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you." Another mumble, "Nope, still didn't catch it." His head snapped up and he glared at me with bright emerald eyes.

"I said I would be your valet!"

**Misaki's POV**

The look he gave me was puzzling. It was an expression I had never seen on his face before, so soft and tender that it almost made me forget my embarrassment entirely. It scared me slightly, the way I felt like I was looking into his soul. He looked so vulnerable, like he was back to being four years old again. I opened my mouth to snap him out of it when suddenly the door banged open and the sound of Aikawa's voice broke through the air. Immediately the mask fell over his face and he frowned.

"Misaki—I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No Aikawa, I was merely concluding my negotiations with Misaki who will consequently be working as my new valet."

"Really now, I guess I'm going to have to prepare the spare room then."

"Yes, you are."

They continued to talk, but I wasn't paying attention. Instead, all my focus was on the tray of pastries Aikawa was holding. I could see each one from across the room. Hell, I could smell the things. Until now, I hadn't realized how hungryI was. The fried kippers on Usagi-san's plate had been tempting at first but it was Usagi-san's food and I no desire to take it away from him. After all, he needed it after having a fever for three days. I couldn't understand why he wasn't eating it now, but that was his business. At the moment all my focus was on the fluffy dough upon the plate currently being held hostage by Aikawa as she continued to stand in the doorway. Come on, move closer! Stop talking and give me food!

Finally I lost my patience. Shuffling forward, trying to be an inconspicuous as possible I neared the tray. I could feel Usagi-san's eyes on my back but I didn't care. It's not like he was holding me that tightly, and at the moment I couldn't give a monkey's eye about manners. As I neared the tray, Aikawa looked down at me questioningly and suddenly my determination flew out the window.

"Can I…um…If it's not too much trouble…take the tray please?"

"Of course! I'm so sorry, I won't keep it from you a minute longer." Smiling she held it out to me and suddenly it was all I could do not to push her away and ripped the thing from her hands. In the end I just took one side of the tray as slowly as I could bring myself to, so as not to show my eagerness. It seemed I went too slowly though because as I tugged on the food, her hands did not release their grip. Her attention had once again left me entirely and she didn't realized I had a grip on the food and wasn't about to drop it. Although at that point I would eat it if it had rolled into the sewer, which come to think of it has happened to my dinner a few more times than I cared to recall. My stomach growled loudly.

"Oh, pardon me, here you are." And then it was mine! Finally, food! It was all I could do not to push my face into the plate and eat it like a dog. Fancy Usagi-san's reaction to that! Going as fast as I could, being sure not to unbalance the plate, I went to go sit down.

"Misaki, what are you doing?" I looked up from the corner I had selected to eat my breakfast.

"Um…eating food?" Had I done something wrong? I had been careful to cut the weird fluffy dough scone looking thing with a knife and fork before stuffing it in my mouth instead of just shoving my face in it like I so wanted to. Granted the piece was a little bigger than necessary, ok, a _lot_ bigger than necessary, but it couldn't be bothering him that much. I was even chewing slowly so as not to make too much noise.

"Yes I know you're eating, but why in the corner?" I looked at him blankly. Where else was I supposed to eat?

"Because…er…that's where I'm sitting?" I hated the high-pitched uncertainty of my voice but honestly, what was he trying to get at. He sighed.

"Come here." Hesitantly I stood up, carefully setting my food next to where I had been siting. "Bring the food." I looked at him nervously, was he going to take it away? Suddenly I was infinitely glad I had taken that extra-large bite. Shuffling up to him slowly I offered the tray in front of me. He was frowning.

"Sit down on the bed." I sat on the edge. "No forget that order." I got off the bed. "Give me the tray." I handed it to him, granted a little unwillingly. "Now sit next to me." I looked at him in shock.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me." Tentatively I crawled over his legs and positioned myself between him and the wall again, favoring more the wall than him. Every fiber in my being protested against getting so close to him when I was practically a walking ball of filth. As before though, I ended up just being pulled over until our hips were pressed tightly together. My face practically exploded with the blood that had decided to all at once rush to my cheeks. I gulped. Suddenly I didn't feel that much like eating. Not with this sudden attack of butterflies. "Really Misaki, you're going to make me pull a stitch what with all the hassle you're causing me. Now hold out your hands." I did, a little guiltily, and to my delight he placed the tray back into them.

**Akihiko's POV**

I watched fascinated as Misaki began to eat. It was absorbing seeing his self-awareness dictate all his actions. From the way he tried to make himself as small as possible to the way he held his knife and fork, obviously trying to be polite but at the same time trying to hold as little of the utensils as possible, painfully aware of the dirt coating his fingers and the rest of his body. It made my heart twist in my chest to witness the low self-esteem that possessed his whole being.

"So Misaki, how do you like the pastries?" He looked up and smiled a close mouth smile, his cheeks so full of dough and cream that I couldn't help but think he was the one who deserved the title of 'usagi'. He swallowed quickly.

"It's absolutely heavenly! What are they?"

"Choux à la crème."

"Sshoo ah lah-um-what?" Aikawa giggled at the garbled noises that came out of Misaki's mouth.

"Just call them profiteroles." Misaki stuffed another one in his mouth before answering.

"How do you get the fluffy consistency of the dough? I can see how the cream got in, there's a hole for the syringe right here, but the outside confuses me. I mean, on closer inspection they don't look like they've been fried, more like baked but this isn't exactly something you can do with baking soda, that wouldn't allow holes big enough to inject the cream into. How do you make the dough?" Aikawa and I both looked at him opened mouthed.

"Well I..I mean…I think it has something to do with eggs…maybe?" Misaki seemed to consider this, his eye brows wrinkling in concentration as he thought. For a second the urge to smooth out that wrinkle with a kiss almost overwhelmed me, but I fought it off. Something much more important had reared its head and I was going to investigate it with everything I had.

"Misaki, do you like cooking?" He looked at me then with the brightest smile I had seen on his face so far.

"Oh yes! I love cooking, and baking, and cake decorating, and making confections! I mean…" He suddenly trailed off, his face erupting into a far deeper shade of red than it had previously held. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I like learning more about Misaki." His mumbled reply was incomprehensible, even within the proximity of my ears. I tried to make my voice as gentle as possible. He was like a shy kitten I had once had to coax out from beneath the bureau after I had rescued it from my brother's 'tender loving' care. That kitten had survived the tyrannical affections of Haruhiko. What had Misaki survived? "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." Another mumble. "Come on Misaki, tell me."

"I said I'm a valet now, it doesn't matter what I like." He looked like he wanted to punch himself for saying that out loud. Now though it seemed it was Aikawa's turn to chip in to the conversation.

"Of course it matters what you want Misaki, you're human aren't you." I just barely caught his reply.

"Only half."

"Well that's certainly more than most people I've met." He suddenly went quiet and his hair fell in front of his face, hiding his eyes from my own. I didn't need to see though, the despair was apparent enough in his strained voice.

"It is, isn't it." It was only then when Aikawa chose to take the hint. You think she would realize that I wanted some privacy when I had been so adamant on ignoring her. Misaki had put himself into a guarded state. He didn't know Aikawa and it was obviously putting him on edge. He was more tense, more polite, but most of all more wary about everything around him. I wanted him to relax, to feel safe. I wanted to learn more about him and Aikawa's presence in the room was not helping.

"Well I guess I'll go see about the room."

"Yes, please do."

"Enjoy your breakfast Misaki."

"I will, thank you."

"It's no bother. Toodles." Misaki's smile was back in place, the fake one that is, the one I was starting to despise.

"bye." And then she was gone. The reaction from Misaki was immediate. Every muscle in his body seemed to loosen. Although the change was not visible, I could tell from the feel of him pressed against my side. Now that he was more relaxed I just need the boy to open up to me and tell me about himself.

"Usagi-san, can I…if it's not too much trouble that is…um…I mean you don't have to, but…"

"What is it Misaki?"

"Well…um…after I'm done eating, can I use your bathtub? I promise to clean it out afterwards!" The hopeful expression he gave me was priceless, but I wasn't about to give in that easily.

I pretended to think. "Hmmm…What would I get in return?" The tentative look from earlier was immediately replaced with a deep scowl.

"What do you want?" More pondering although inside I already knew exactly what I wanted.

"I want…" He leaned forward expectantly "…to know more about you." Emerald eyes widened in surprise.

"You want to know…about me?" Was that so unusual?

"It's only fair after all. You know almost everything there is to know about me, don't I deserve some knowledge of my savior?" Aah, and we're back to the blush. The urge to hug him tight and never let go was also back, worse than ever, but I knew I would never be able to just stop there. It was either hold back entirely or go all out, and I wanted answers, so for now it seems, I was going to have to keep my hands in my lap.

"W-what do you want to know?"

"Everything, but I'll settle for just one thing right now." He gulped.

"Well..uh…I'm forty three?"

"Nope, try again, you already said that twice."

"I like to cook."

"Try again."

"Usagi-san, I really can't think of anything. Can't you just ask a question?" He whined.

"Alright then, where did you learn to cook?"

"My mother." Damn, I was hoping for a longer answer.

"So you were human once? Who made you part machine?"

"My broth—Hey that's more than one question!"

"Damn."

"That was mean Usagi-san." My god he was pouting again! Suddenly the idea of taking him right there was becoming _really _tempting.

"So says the person who's been spying on me my whole life." Thank god the pout replaced with a look of indignation, I felt like my heart was going to give out if I had to resist much longer.

"I have _not_ been spying!"

"No, you've just been watching me from a discreet distance."

"It was for your own good!"

"So you admit it was spying then."

"What?! NO!"

"Hah, you're blushing!"

"WHY YOU INSUFFERABLE…!"

"Insufferable what Misaki?"

"AAARGH! That's it! I'm going to go take a bath!"

**Japanned-A certain type of wood finishing. In appearance it is a dark brown.**

"**No man is a hero to his valet." An old proverb. Basically a valet knows all your dirty little secrets, from the wart on the bottom of your left big toe to the fact that you pick your nose when nobodies looking, along with how much money you've been cheating the government and who all your mistresses are. Once you know someone intimately like that it is very hard to be enamored with them. Kind of explains the high mortality rate in that profession doesn't it?**

**This is the European counting style. The ground floor is zero; the next one up is one.**

**For more on the ridiculousness of the English, look up 'I'm British' by Doctor Elemental on YouTube. Or just look up Doctor Elemental and enjoy his collection of steampunky raps.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: So unless I turn into Napoleon and conquer the world I highly doubt I will ever be gaining the rights to Junjou Romantica. May you have better luck than me. **

Misaki promptly stood up on the bed and unfurled his wings with a snap. Bending his knees slightly, and never once wobbling, he jumped, over Akihiko and over the bed, only to glide down and land gracefully on the other side of the room. Once there he directed at the nobleman what Akihiko presume he thought to be a fearsome glare but really just turned out looking like another one of those pouts.

"I hope you don't plan on changing back into those clothes when you're done."

"…No."

"Then I take it you're going to walk around my flat in the nude until I can arrange for the tailor to come over?" A smirk spread across Akihiko's face.

"No!"

"Then what are you going to do?" He suddenly looked ashamed and a little afraid as if waiting for someone to strike him. It was look the silver haired man had learned preceded every request he made. And it was certainly a habit Akihiko was steadfast on breaking him of.

"I can use your robe…right?"

"No." He looked resigned at the answer, as if he really hadn't expected anything different. "Instead you can borrow one of my clean shirts. As you said, the robe has been soiled. I refuse to allow a servant of mine to go around in a soiled robe after cleaning their body." A look of disbelief came over his face and the elder's smirk mellowed into a soft smile.

"Really?"

"Of course. Just find one in the wardrobe, I have dozens."

Suddenly feeling shy Misaki made his way once again to the bed. The other man watched in puzzlement before realizing Misaki had come to collect the dirty dishes. Of course, Misaki would never do something for himself when someone else is in need. Lavender eyes softened. Even if it is something as tedious as picking up dishes instead of taking a bath.

"Misaki, before you go down and clean those until I can see my face in them, or something ridiculous like that, I insist that you bath." The brunette looked down, suddenly embarrassed by his state of filth. Seeing this Akihiko's smile widened and tugging gently on the boys arm so that he leaned hesitantly forward, wary of the tray now balance in his hands. Once the smaller was in range though the noble quickly planted a quick kiss to his cheek then sat back enjoying the show created from watching the blood rush to Misaki's face. He wondered if he should stop soon lest the poor boy's cheeks became permanently stained in that deep scarlet hue. His smile turned just a tad bit malevolent when he realized he didn't care. "You'd better hurry though, or I might just be tempted to join you."

"Pervert!"

"What, you don't like it?" Akihiko's voice was just a bit too innocent for Misaki to really believe him.

"No, I don't!"

"Spoil sport."

"You deserve it!"

"You should know, I was serious."

"What! But you can't get out of bed!"

"I'm sure I could manage. As long as there's a good reward for my struggles."

"But the doctor said—"

"Misaki, you should know by now, I don't particularly care what anyone says. I do what I want." A determined light showed in his eyes and his hands crossed before his chest instilling into Misaki's mind that this was beyond a doubt, true. "Anyways, I'm going to have to bath sometime. Of course I won't be able to do it without assistance." The red had returned.

"You are a pervert! How can you force a nice lady like Aikawa to help you clean your filthy body! It's immoral!" Akihiko sighed and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand.

"I wasn't talking about Aikawa."

"Oh? Then who were you—OH! Wait! I can't—"

"If you can wrap my bandages, then you can certainly help me bath." Misaki had placed the dishes by the door during their argument and was now digging through Akihiko's wardrobe, looking for a shirt. His face was turned away from the other occupant of the room.

"That's different. Your life was in danger."

"Oh? And how does that make it different?"

"I can do a lot of things went your life's in danger." The reply was nothing more than a low mumble, but Akihiko was beginning to learn how to make out most of the comments Misaki meant only to be heard by himself, and this one was no exception. "Ah! Here's one." Desperate to change the subject Misaki pulled out a shirt from the mess of hangers and cotton that was Akihiko's wardrobe. The bedridden man observed it to be his oldest and most worn one. Akihiko, to play along and instead of bringing up the comment he had overheard, responded to this.

"Towels should be hanging on a rack somewhere, or on the floor somewhere. Otherwise check behind the door, they sometimes end up there." Misaki turned to the man with a scolding expression covering his face. Akihiko, though could just see the marks of sadness as he looked deep into the peridot eyes. It seemed even Misaki's flawless mask had some chips in it.

"Usagi-san, if you keep towels on the floor too long they get sour." Akihiko responded to the scolding with a cheeky grin.

"Then I just go buy new ones."

"You know someday before you know it, you're going to be force out of your apartment by an avalanche of sour towels." Misaki suddenly started giggling at the mental image and instantly all traces of depression disappeared. Allowing himself to come along for the ride, Akihiko allowed a chuckle to escape before wincing.

"Usagi-san!"

"No it's alright. Just go take your bath, there's nothing you can do."

"A-are you sure? Is there anything I can get you before it's too late and I'm unavailable?" Akihiko thought for a second. He decided he had to pick something, if only to make Misaki feel useful.

"Yes, can you get me a book?" Misaki looked around the room. In between the papers, dishes, clothes, and toys half-hazardly strewn across the floor he could also see a number of hardcover novels peeking through.

"Any one in particular?"

"Yes that one over there, beneath Suzukisan."

"Which Suzukisan, you have five million in this room alone." Akihiko's smile suddenly brightened. Without Misaki's knowing, the command had been a test. So many people had criticized his toy collection, some even treating it like a terminal disease, never talking about it except in hushed tones. The fact that Misaki not only knew who, or what, a Suzukisan is, but also was accepting them, already treating them as something to playfully tease about. It was more than he had hoped for. His worries had been quelled a bit by the lack of comment so far but they hadn't been extinguished entirely. Now though it seemed, he had gotten his wish.

"The one next to the G.B.N. elephant." Misaki quickly hurried over to the wind-up toy position next to the familiar plush bear. Digging around a bit he extracted a light paper back from beneath the clutter.

"You read Penny Dreadfuls?"

"I find them amusing." Reaching over, the brunette handed the book to the other.

"Well enjoy, I guess."

"Oh, I will. Preferably soon."

"You're thinking dirty things again."

"Yes." Misaki decided he was going to have to be around the man a lot longer before he got used to how easily he admitted his improper thoughts.

"Well, I'll be going."

"Have fun."

"Shut up!"

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The bathroom was big, but that was to be expected. In fact, Misaki ponders, if it had been any smaller, he would have been a little disappointed. Beneath his bare feet the floor was black and white checkered marble, representing in its way, the theme of the entire room. Not that this was apparent though. As Misaki had predicted, to fit with the theme of the apartment, the room was a mess. To his right was, atop a cabinet he presumed to hold plumbing, rested a black granite basin sink sunk into a thick slab of polished marble. It would have been elegant had not the sink been clogged by what looked like an expensive hand towel submerged in a bizarrely purple liquid. Also floating in the sink was Akihiko's hairbrush and what looked to formerly have been a piece of notebook paper covered in messy writing but was now a sodden mass whose form barely hinted at its previous shape. The rest of the room told the same story. Misaki kicked a rubber duck lying on the floor in front of his feet, watching as it sailed across the room and landed in a puddle of…shaving cream? Frankly, he didn't want to know.

"You'd think his rooms were occupied by a team of rampaging hogs." Misaki's voice echoed more than he expected off the tiled walls.

"I heard that." Damn, he had forgotten that the bedroom was just beyond the bathroom door. And that that man had the ears of his namesake.

"It's the truth and you know it." He called back. There was a low chuckle before silence. Misaki presumed the author must have returned to his book.

Picking his way over to the tub, Misaki took a deep breath before looking in. To his relief though the porcelain was relatively clean and lacking entirely in mysterious violet fluids. Perfect.

The knobs for the tub were shiny, brass, and connected to a whole network of pipes that ran up the wall behind them. It was these that Misaki felt his eye being drawn too. Colored glass cylinders stood in a rows about half way up, in what Misaki figured was easy reach for men like Akihiko. Leaning a little towards them, the brunette realized that the glass wasn't colored at all, but rather the liquid inside was what shone the different hues. He examined the first row.

_Parfume._

Wait, wasn't that French? It meant scent or something right? Trust the French to monopolize the toiletry industry in Britain. Go figure.

The next row of cylinders, Misaki discovered, did not contain liquid at all but rather little solid things that looked a little like salt except he had yet to see a naturally occurring salt made in fuchsia. In this row all the glasses stuck out a little from the mass of brass pipe that made up the wall, it seemed for the reason that the containers lids could be taken off. Doing just that Misaki looked closer into the container only to quickly draw back, feeling ready to sneeze. Suddenly the whole room smelled like rose oil and he had to rub his nose for almost a minute before the over powering scent began to dissipate from his nostrils. These cylinders were labeled _Sels de Bain_.

There were more rows but Misaki decided he had had enough exploring for one day and set about searching for _savon_ which he knew to be 'soap.' Eventually he found it. Like the other cylinders, save the colored salts, it was connected on top and bottom by a pipe and on the bottom pipe there was a small knob which he turned. Rimming the side of the bathtub were dozens of little openings for the pipes and out of one of these a steady stream of milky blue liquid began to pour.

Finally deciding that he had an adequate amount Misaki turned the stream on and moved his hand down to the knob engraved with an elegant capital H. Hot steaming water began to flow out of the biggest pipe opening, mixing with the soap now coating the bottom of the tub and making Misaki smile. Now to go find a towel.

Eventually he found one that didn't smell too sour and he began to shed his clothes. This took a surprising while, considering that he wasn't exactly wearing much. Off with the filthy over cloak, off with the ragged woman's shawl. Goodbye to the shirt that once was white and so long to pants that had once been thick wool but were now thinner than a lady's veil. It was the rags and bits of cloth that he had tied around his legs and arms to keep warm that took so long to peel off. The knots had grown stiff with damp and grime giving him more than his fair share of trouble, but eventually they were off, leaving him naked before the now full tub.

It took a little bit of will power to actually get in, the bubbles looked so pure, he had no desire to soil them, but once he had entered he never wanted to leave again. The feel of being submerged in the hot water up to his neck was beyond heavenly. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm again. He didn't think he had ever felt anything more comfortable. No that was a lie. That night, three nights ago, sleeping in Akihiko's arms, had been the warmest and most comfortable feeling in the world. But he was never going to feel that again, so this bath was just going to have to do.

Thinking of Usagi had set off a spark though and suddenly his vision was filled with the images he had gathered while sleeping in the bed with the man. Pale skin stretched like velvet over firm pectorals, the strong cords of a graceful neck, the flat planes of his toned stomach…

Misaki wound his fingers into his hair and pulled. No, now was not the time! Not when the man was in the next room. Not with ears akin to the lapin. He couldn't help it though, the memory of the sharp protrusion of the noble's hip bone under his fingers and the feel of his cold hands squeezing just right down there.

"No, no, no!"

Spotting the flannel he quickly snatched it up submerged it in the soapy water before rubbing vigorously at his skin. It was only after about five minutes of this did he begin to see the pinkish red of tender flesh not concealed behind layers of filth and grime. Soon he could see his whole arm like this. The sea of bubbles around him was beginning to turn grey.

It was wrong to think of Usagi-san like that, he decided. Although the author was the one who would be taking the blame for putting those thought in his head. Just who did he think he was touching him down there on that morning?

The fury and indignation Misaki tried to call up to distract himself did nothing. A feeling of depression settled over him. He knew he loved Akihiko. He knew this better than he knew his own name. Better than he knew that the sun would come up the next morning.

He also knew though that Akihiko could never feel the same for him. He did not blame the man for his actions. Most likely, he was only being viewed as a toy. After all, didn't the rabbit like his toys? The man was already living with a woman; although Misaki highly doubted his father was aware of this, otherwise something would have been done by know. Unmarried men and unmarried women didn't just simply live together and have nothing happen after all. At least not in Kensington and certainly not if they were bearers of the Usami title.

He almost cursed Akihiko out loud. Really, the man was too cruel. Making him feel such pleasure, making such intimate advances, and then keeping him around as his valet. It was almost like he wanted Misaki to misunderstand it all as something more, even when the boy knew such things were impossible.

The bubbles were turning darker and Misaki wished he could fly away. Just soar into the sky and keep flying until he found happiness.

But things didn't happen like that. He had tried once, when Akihiko was sixteen and he realized what was happening. The minute he had noticed the changes in his feeling, felt the skip in his heart every time he caught a glimpse of silver hair, he had taken off. He had even managed to get a full day of flight between him and the object of his affection before he had been forced to turn around.

Chains, that's what they were. Titanium chains that had coiled themselves in his chest and threatened to tear his heart out every time he tried to leave, so that a single day without the youngest Usami was a day on the deepest pit of hell.

It didn't matter how many times he was rejected, or how many times he went into the room to stoke the fire only to find another man in bed with his love. He would just ignore the painful tightening of the chains, even when it felt like his whole chest was on fire and he couldn't draw breath. He couldn't leave. Not now.

Not ever.

Water streamed over the flush skin of his body as he rose from the tub and he let it. Just before leaving he had ducked his head under the water, and now it was impossible to tell whether the flow of water was coming from the hair plastered to his cheeks, or his tightly closed eyes.

He stepped out, feeling the plush fibers of the rug almost engulf his feet, they were so thick. Turning back, he reached into the murky water and unplugged the bath tub. A dirty whirlpool formed, spinning wildly before shrinking into nothingness. Replacing the plug he filled it again. He wasn't clean yet. Soaking in your own filth did not clean a man of his dirt. Just like stewing in your own self-pity did not fix a man of his problems. He was just going to have to think of something else.

**G.B.N: Gubr****ü****der Bing Nuremburg, a toy company that started out in the mid 1800's by two Germans, Gubr****ü****der and Bing (From Nuremburg. Wasn't somebody thinking creatively.), who made kitchen utensils. Eventually they moved onto trains, then wind-up toys and finally teddy bears. There was a big court case with Steiff because both companies used to put their logo on the bears ears, G.B.N's being a metal arrow with a diamond in it (Yes, diamond with a 'd') but G.B.N. lost and their logo was relocated to under the bears arm. Which back then was usually longer than the legs. Creepy much? The moral of this story is that if you ever find a bear with a diamond on its ear you can now call yourself wealthy. That or if you find enough you could probably open a haunted house. Seriously, those things were terrifying. The teddy bear that Suzukisan is modeled after didn't really come around until the 1920's. Before, bears were made to look as realistic as possible and were made with iron frames so that they can stand up. Sounds like a murder weapon to me. How 'bout you? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Finally FFN isn't blocked on my laptop! Now I just have to update before I'm back to square one.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

The book was beginning to grow boring, Akihiko was growing bored, and Misaki was taking far too long to bathe. Akihiko began to ponder this. He, after all, wasn't one to wait for any one. Or even care what any one was up to for that matter. So why did he care that Misaki was taking such a long time? Didn't the boy not only need but deserve it? This was probably the first real bath he had had since he was born. So why was he so eager to have Misaki back in the room with him? He was a man who never cared for any one's company. Or so he told himself, since he had, after all never really had had anyone's company to care about.

He should be more patient. After all, Misaki was getting clean. Didn't he prefer the presence of a clean servant later than a dirty servant now? Especially since he wasn't in any dire need of a servant at the moment anyways?

No, in actuality, he didn't care if Misaki was as sparkling clean as his mother's silver, or as filthy as one of the swine from the estate. He just wanted the boy with him, at his side. After all, hadn't he forced Misaki into his bed after the other had been sleeping in a gutter for three days? God knows what diseases he was now carrying in his sheets. He hadn't really thought of it at the time. In fact he really didn't think about his actions at all when he was around the automaton. Everything had just been natural. It was scary almost. He was a man of thought. He was a scholar who premeditated all his actions to give him the greatest possible benefit. He hadn't been at the top of his University for nothing. So where did all this learning go to when he was around Misaki. Really, he should be terrified. To forfeit such control over himself when around another. It left him open to manipulation.

Somehow though, he doubted Misaki would ever use him like that. Misaki was after all this angel. The person he could trust completely. The person he _did_ trust completely.

And he had no idea why.

The door to the bathroom creaked open and a slightly pinkish face peered out from behind it.

"Milord?" Akihiko stared at the emerald eyes of the automaton in shock. With the flawlessness of his skin, the boy seemed to almost glow with an unearthly light. His eyes which had looked of normal size when his face had been different shades of dirty brown now stood out wide and innocent in his face, framed round by thick dark eyelashes, so long that Akihiko could see their shadows over the paleness of his cheeks. Being in the hot water had filled them out and given them a healthy flush reminding the noble of rosebuds floating in a bowl of cream. His hair was only half dry, giving it a sheen that glimmered in the gas light like the finest Chinese silk. He swallowed as Misaki stepped out entirely into the room. Rich white cotton draped over his torso, sticky slightly to where the skin was still wet, giving Akihiko a good idea of the subtle curves possessed by the oblivious brunette. It only went so far though, the shirt stopped about mid-thigh allowing Akihiko full view of the slender knees connected to lithe calves which continued on to ankles so thin that the noble was surprised they could hold the entire weight of his body. He could see the blueness of his veins and the distinct outline of his bones within the tiny feet. _Tiny feet to match tiny hands_, he thought before realizing that his own cheeks had developed a slight flush from looking at the boy.

"I'm sorry Misaki, what did you call me?"

"Milord. I am after all, your valet now. It is only appropriate."

"Well I don't like it. Call me Usagi-san." Really he didn't, the title seemed to create a distance between he and the boy, something that was not at all to his taste.

"But I can't be so familiar! It's unacceptable!"

"Then call me that in public. As your master though, I refuse to be addressed so formally while in private." The blush that complemented the brunette's cheeks definitely did not stem from the bath.

"If you insist."

"I do, and most adamantly at that. Now while you were gone I rang my tailor. He will be here within the hour, so much as I regret it, you're going to have to put on something below your waist." Nope, definitely not from the bath. It was going to be a pity, seeing such a wonderful view covered up. He refused though to allow anyone else to see, and this adamant feeling confused him. He had slept with countless men, but never had he cared whom else they were with. He knew for a fact that since most of the men had been servants, they had been living in shared rooms in which they had to dress before others. He had never cared about this before. So why was Misaki so special?

"Um…Usagi-san, do you want me to put my trousers back on? Before you said I wasn't allowed to get back into dirty cloths."

"And I stick to that. You're going to have to return to my wardrobe."

"But Usagi-san, your shirt is already this big on me," Misaki picked at the fabric, holding up as if as evidence to his argument. Akihiko wasn't paying attention to that though. Instead his attention was riveted on several inches of creamy pale thigh that made themselves known as Misaki unknowingly lifted the hem of the shirt. "Putting on your trousers is going to be the same as going for a swim."

"Misaki, I'm making this rule now. No one but myself is allowed to see you without trousers. And for that matter, after the tailor leaves, no one is allowed to see you without your shirt either."

"O-ok." Picking his way over he opened the wardrobe and began searching around for the adequate article of clothing. As in the hotel room, he was force to bend over away from Akihiko, causing the shirt to hike up several more inches until stopping just below the curve of his arse. The bedridden man wasn't disappointed for long though because once Misaki found the Usami heir's oldest and most worn pair of trousers he pulled them up and for a few seconds Akihiko had a very generous view of the boy's shapely derrière. The rabbit licked his lips.

"Misaki, come here." The automaton turned and looked at him with curious bottle green eyes.

"What, why?"

"Don't question me." Obediently Misaki walked over, tightening his belt as he went. As he stood before the man in the bed, his shirt, which hadn't been button all the way up to begin with, slipped over one shoulder revealing the pink bud of one of the boy's nipples. Akihiko, who had placed his hands on the boys hips with the intent of pulling him nearer for a kiss stopped, and leaned closer to the boy's chest for examination.

"Misaki, what's this?" Around the center of the left side of Misaki's chest was a small shiny copper plate. It was heart shaped in nature, carved with intricate flourishes of leaves and flowers, all which seemed to join together at the middle around what was clearly a small keyhole.

"Oh, that. Well I guess you could say that was the door to my control panel. Everything vital about my functioning is behind it. The switch that's used to turn me on and off along with the switch for my memory, for my speech, and for my thoughts." Akihiko looked up into endless peridot eyes. It was like staring into the depths of lake. There was something behind them, something important, and yet he could look all day and he knew he would never catch a glimpse. Why was the other telling him this? This was the automaton's weakness and in turn must be his greatest secret. So why speak of it so freely? And had he not seen it before in the hotel room when they had been naked before each other. But then again, the other's chest had been streaked with dirt, and he hadn't exactly been looking in that direction.

"It looks like it takes a key."

"Yes, this one here." Misaki held up his wrist and for the first time Akihiko say it without the ragged scraps of fabric wrapped around the delicate join. Hanging loosely from a gilded chain no thicker than a spider's web was a small key, about the size of the top segment of Akihiko's thumb. It too shown gold with one end consisting of thin strands of metal coiled and woven into a heart shape with the chain running through and the other end made up of complicated notched and indents giving it an entirely unique look that could probably never been replicated. Akihiko stared at it in reverence.

"The chain looks a little long to be a bracelet."

"Yes well, technically, my brother made it as a necklace, but boys don't wear necklaces. Anyways, when it was under all the wrappings around my arms it was much safer; well, not that anyone would have an easy time breaking it. It's made of a material of my brother's own invention." The light of loving pride showed through the automaton's eyes, though it was clouded slightly by the weight of sadness.

"Your brother is an amazing person. Do I ever get to meet him?" The pride immediately disappeared quickly being replaced by a burning hatred.

"Yes, he was an amazing person. The _most_ amazing person. And no, you will never meet him. He was murdered." Before he knew what he was doing, Akihiko had Misaki pressed against his chest with his face buried in the brunette's hair. He squeezed tightly and to his satisfaction he felt a small squeeze back.

"Did you ever get them?" He wasn't sure why he asked the question. Maybe it had been the look in Misaki's eyes, the look that told him a desperate tale of vengance and heartbreak.

"No." Akihiko actually found himself shocked. Misaki's eyes had been so strong in their loathing. How could he have not got his revenge when such conviction lay buried within his petite body?

"What happened?"

"The queen does not take kindly to those who threatened her life." Before had been but mild surprise. Now he was rigid with shock.

"You tried to take the life of the queen and lived?"

"I told you how we met right?"

"Yes, you said I found you outside my house during a Christmas party."

"What else did I say?"

"You said…that you were…escaping." Now finally the truth was coming to light. Something in me though said that this was more than any simple truth. Misaki's' voice was cold, unfeeling, as if he were merely reciting facts, and not his past treason against the crown. "So you're a traitor."

"Yes."

"Then, I have been harboring a fugitive."

"Yes."

"In honor of my country I should turn you in."

"Yes." The ice in his voice had not fallen, not a single drop of emotion slipping through. I really should turn him, in shouldn't I? Cancel the appointment with my tailor and call up the yard instead. After all, his presence here was putting me in danger.

As I thought my grip on him slipped and Misaki backed up. He looked at me from behind a frozen mask of indifference. For a moment I almost seriously reached for the telephone upon my bedside table. But the look in his eye combined with a sudden tightness in my chest stopped my hand and in an instant it all came crashing down. I couldn't do it. At that moment my eyes were opened and I realized that nothing in the world could make me pick up the telephone. Not now, not ever.

"I was born in Nippon, you know." He continued to look at me and for a second a crack in the ice appeared and I saw emotion peak through. A slight confusion, a sliver of hope.

"I know."

"I'm not a subject of the empire." The crack was growing bigger, but I didn't want a crack, I wanted the mask gone entirely.

"You have lived here for twenty five years."

"Misaki."

"Yes?"

"I don't give a damn." And it shattered.

"Usagi-san." Tears welled up in peridot eyes, making them shine in the lamplight.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." They were over flowing now and I couldn't bear to watch any longer. In an motion verging on violence I pulled him once again to my chest. Salty water rapidly wet cotton as sobs wracked his fragile body. I held him tightly. So tightly I thought he would break, but the hands he had fisted into my shirt were even tighter so I didn't slacken my grip. This was a cry that had been long overdue. These tears belong to his brother, to the long years of loneliness, to the pain of an abandoned boy, and the joy of discovering a home. Neither of us said a word for a long time, and never once did I loosen my hold. I felt like I was the only one holding him together. Like it was my actions alone that prevented him from breaking into millions of tiny pieces. And I realized something. Something that was scary and new. Something that had never happened before in my life.

I was in love.

**Want to impress your friends? Well here's a fun new fact! The latin for anal sex ****is**__**peccatum Sodomiticum. Literally it means 'sin of Sodom.' And the French for orgasm is La Petite Mort. Literally, 'the little death.' This is because way back when they used to think that every time you orgasm you lose a little part of your soul. What I want to know is if that means that when you die is that the same as one really big orgasm?**


	8. Chapter 8

**I recently had comedy explained to me. It went like this. Comedy is made up of two elements; food and sex. Food being before and after digestion.**

**Disclaimer: All the ideas are mine save those that aren't.**

It was around tea time and the tailor had come and gone much to Akihiko's relief. He didn't think he could sit there much longer, stitches or not, while there was another man running his hands over Misaki's body. The other had offered they go into another room but Akihiko had refused. Who knew what would happen when he was not there to supervise.

The first outfit was due to be delivered the next day while the rest of the automaton's wardrobe was to be picked up at the end of the week. So thus, much to his chagrin, Misaki was being forced to stay in Akihiko's oversized clothes.

The new valet was currently taking away the papers and books by the fire place and stacking them in neat piles around the edges of the room swearing to come back to them later. He would have preferred putting them all into a bookshelf but the few the noble owned were already stuffed to overflowing with even more of the text items. It was better though than before, when all the clutter had been falling onto the hearth were it proved to be fire hazard. Akihiko hadn't seen it as a problem but he had a hot water heater at his feet. Misaki on the other hand was starting to feel the effects from the bath wearing off and plus had grown tired of running down to the kitchen every time the water in the apparatus had cooled. Why not just light a fire and warm the whole room up at once?

After finding a stained sheet at the bottom of the linen closet Misaki laid it out before the fire place before stepping back, wondering what to do next. Seeing that the other had stopped moving Akihiko looked up from his manuscript.

"What's wrong?" Misaki turned around and gestured to the shirt he was wearing.

"I need to clean the fire place out because you haven't done it in ages, but I can't do it wearing these."

"Why not? Those are my most used clothes. It's not like I'll ever be putting them on again."

"We're talking about you though. In your world, 'most used' means you wore it for about a month before accidentally getting it stained." The brunette pointed to a small patch of burgundy no bigger than a thumb nail.

"You could always just not wear anything afterward. I certainly wouldn't have any objection."

"_I_ would!"

"Hmmm…pity. If you're ashamed of nudity you could always just slip under the covers with me. No one would see a thing and plus we could share body heat if you get cold."

"Oh yes of course, and come time for me to prepare the afternoon tea I could just slip down to the kitchen, blankets and all. Marvelous idea. I could prepare sandwiches in a quilt." Sarcasm dripped from Misaki's words as he glared at his master.

"If you were to arrange it like a toga I'm sure it could work out."

"Oh shut up." Turning on his heels he began to stalk towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To go ask Aikawa if she has an apron or something," To Misaki's chagrin Akihiko actually had the nerve to look disappointed.

"Don't be gone too long."

"I'm not even leaving the house."

"You'll be leaving me to go be with a woman. I'm not sure if I approve."

"God! Enough with the teasing!" The slamming of the door sent one of the picture frames plummeting towards the ground. Luckily it only fell about a foot before landing solidly on a pile of books. The author watched with amused eyes as the stack began to teeter precariously before the whole thing tumbled down, bringing with it two other formerly neat towers. Akihiko almost felt sorry for his new servant once the tumbling had stopped and he was able to observe that his bed room had returned to its former state of chaos. _Almost_ being the key word because on the other hand, Akihiko liked watching the way whenever Misaki bent down to pick something up, his arse would be in perfect view for the connoisseur to appreciate.

His good mood did not last for long though as he began to wonder about his valet. About his past, about his personality, and most of all about his feelings. More specifically, his feelings towards a certain white haired male. Just who was Misaki and why did he feel so compelled to serve the nobleman? It wasn't enough just to love the boy, he needed to be loved back by him. And he wasn't sure if that was the case. Did Misaki love him, or was he just doing all this out of a sense of obligation like he said? Now that's ridiculous. If Misaki had been serving him for the last twenty two years, then it had to be more than that. But did the boy love him? He had opened up to the author's kisses, but that didn't mean anything, lots of people did that. Akihiko knew that he was good in the lips department. He wasn't bragging; it was merely a fact.

Was Misaki's reluctance to be in bed with him more than just embarrassment? Did he not see the author in that way? It was depressing, no, downright devastating to realize that you loved someone only to learn within a few hours that they most likely did not feel the same way about you. Akihiko leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. The off white plaster though, gave him no consolation or answers as to what to do. If Misaki didn't love him now, couldn't he just make him love him later? _Although, _the man thought, _to love me is more a curse than a blessing._ He was not unaware that he was a needy man, dare he admit, just a little spoiled. But the pain that was coming now at the thought of loving alone was too much to bear. It was almost as if someone were steadily sawing into his chest with a rusty blade. He needed Misaki, and not just the boy's body but his heart too. He was a greedy man and would not settle for any less. Misaki would be his, heart, body, and soul.

The door to room flew open.

"What the bloody hell happened here!" Misaki was standing in the door way, jaw slacked, a tea tray in his hands as he stared wide eyed at the formerly semi tidy room.

"Rome fell and took everything else with it. There was a short revolution you see. The lower classes decided to rise up against the higher party, and in retaliations the upper class decided to attack from above. In the end though, it turned out to be a suicide maneuver, resulting in devastation and great loss."

"What in heaven's name are you palavering about?" Akihiko pointed to the fallen picture. Setting the tray on the side table Misaki bent down to inspect the mess, sending his gluteus maximus shooting into the air, much to Akihiko's pleasure. Eventually peridot eyes spotted the fallen picture frame and he bent farther to fish it out of the pile making the other's smirk widened significantly. The boy eventually straightened though, the picture clutched firmly in his hand as he inspected it closely.

"Is this Rome?"

"Yes, it's a picture I took when my family brought me on that airship tour of Italy."

"Oh yes, I remember. I was acting in place of the scullery maid then so naturally I couldn't go…that turned out to be a very stressful three months." The last part was uttered in near silence as his eyes developed a faraway look of pain along with the deep loneliness that Akihiko was quickly becoming familiar with.

"Stressful? How so?" Raising himself on his tiptoes Misaki just managed to place the frame back on its hook. Walking over he turned the china cup over on its saucer and began to pour his master's tea. The whole time he did not once divert his gaze from the floor.

"You weren't there. Or more specifically I wasn't there with you. What if something had happened? Like thieves, or pirates. What if the balloon has sparked and blown up in midair? What then? I was all the way in England unaware and unable to do a thing." He offered Akihiko the tea cup as he spoke, but his hands were shaking, causing the china to rattle and the walnut colored liquid sloshed over the sides. Hastily the other took them from his hands before placing them back on the bed side table. "I'm sorry. I got tea on your bed. I'll clean it immediately. Sorry." Contrary to his words though he remained standing in front of the bed. Akihiko found that he could not see the other's expression as the thick locks had fallen to conceal the boy's eyes. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Misaki's quivering shoulders while his other hand grasped both of the automatons and held them tightly.

"Shhh…nothing happened. I came back from that trip years ago. There's no need to think about it any longer. I'm here, you're here, and I want you to smile because of that." The other did not move. "Come on, look at me and smile." Slowly Misaki raised his chin and looked at his master's gentle upturned lips. Gradually a tentative smile grew upon his face until it reached his eyes.

"You're right. I'm being silly."

"No, you're not being silly. It's natural to be worried when someone you care about is beyond your reach. It's just proof of how you feel for them." There was something unidentifiable within the deep emerald gaze. It was as if they were searching the author's face, looking for an answer the other did not dare to ask. Akihiko stared back, finding himself getting lost within the complex forest mazes. Eventually though Misaki looked away.

"Your tea's going cold." Slipping his hands away from the man's reassuring grip, Misaki chose not to think about the empty feeling caused by the loss of warmth those hands offered, as he presented the cup again. Taking it, Akihiko continued his calculating watch over the petite brunette. The smaller male had turned his back and was once again bent in front of the fireplace. For the first time Akihiko registered that the other had found some sort of smock which effectively protected his cloths from the soot.

"I made you some tea sandwiches, though all I could find was some bread and marmalade. And that foul green mass in the back of your pantry. Honestly, I think that thing has been there so long the bacteria in it had begun to develop its own calendar." Akihiko snorted at this revelation.

"There's no need for a fully stocked pantry. If I'm hungry I can call up someone to deliver food." Misaki shot him a _look_.

"That's expensive!"

"I can pay."

"I know you can, but it's still a waste! I am going to the market first thing tomorrow!"

"Take me with you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous. I'm sure I can make it to the market and back."

"You had a bleedin' hole ripped into your stomach! No way are you walking anywhere!"

"If I'm not going then neither are you."

"That's stupid!"

"Whether you think it's stupid or not, that's the way it's going to be."

"Alright! Fine! We'll order out for the next few weeks! Wait…how long until you walk again?"

"The doctor will be back in twenty days to take out my stitches."

"Oh…" Misaki had paused in his work, his hands frozen in the middle of sweeping the ashes out of the grate. "Usagi-san, I think you have a leak, the ashes in here are all wet."

"There's no leak, I just pour my tea in there if I don't like it."

"Usagi-san, this is a fireplace. As in, a place to light fires! Do you live to make my life harder?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"…No."

"I didn't think so."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Akihiko could only stare in wonder at what was around him. At the wall opposite his bed, his hearth, formerly a black pit filled with sodden ashes and dirty grey papers had been transformed into a cheery area radiating light and warmth. Before it, draped over the horse(1), was a freshly ironed shirt coupled with perfectly streaked trousers along with a pair of socks currently being warmed so that he might slip them onto his feet during the night. And if this wasn't remarkable enough, the fact that the horse could actually stand up and wasn't teetering atop a pile of books and papers was beyond anything he ever expected. Everything that had cluttered the floor, save nothing, had been picked up and put in its proper place. The papers had all been gathered and stacked into neat little piles along with the books, and were now populating his book cases. It was like watching a miracle happen before his eyes as he witnessed Misaki empty the overflowing shelves only to rearrange them so that everything fitted neatly.

Around the walls of his room, dozens of pairs of little glass eyes watched him from the neat and tidy rows of Suzukisans as he gazed back at them, dumbfounded. For the first time in his memory, his little windup toy train was allowed to transgress the entirety of its track without any obstruction in its path. Even the model airplanes and dirigibles that hung in abundance around his ceiling no longer sported his discarded ties and suspenders. Not one detail had been left unattended to; even his sheets had been traded in favor of newer and fresher smelling linens. The most astounding of all though was the fact that the boy had done it in only a few hours.

"Misaki?"

"Yes?" The reply came from the other room where the author could hear the automaton bustling around and sorting things out.

"This is my room right?"

A messy head of chocolate brown hair appeared in the doorway. The tray formerly brought up to deliver him his tea was now servicing as a platform on which Misaki had managed to balance out an almost exaggerated stack of dirty dishes. Did the silver haired man really have that much china discarded around his rooms?

"Of course it's your room. Where else would you be?"

"It doesn't look like my room."

"Which is something you should be grateful for. I thought I was going to go mad if I had to stay in that mess any longer!"

"Is that so…" Once again the author found himself at a loss for words. There were just some things which couldn't rightly be commented on.

"Have you any other questions?"

"No."

"Good. Now, I'm going to be down in the kitchen for a while. If you need anything, just ring. Alright?"

"Roger that." The other turned to leave before suddenly pausing mid step as if realizing something.

"You'll be in need of dinner soon, right? What would you like, and where would you like it from?" Akihiko paused a moment to think.

"Something French. With eggs."

"Eggs? Why eggs?"

"I like the yellow color."

"Did they drop you on your head when you were an infant?"

"Who's to say?" Misaki rolled his eyes before turning once again to leave.

"Misaki." He paused.

"Hmm?"

"After dinner, I would like to talk to you." The words slammed into the automaton like a block of marble.

"…Oh, um…Ok, I'll be leaving then!" The door closed hastily behind him and Misaki hurried through the sitting room onto the first floor landing. He halted suddenly and leaned against the wall with a shaky sigh. Alerted by the rattling of china, emerald eyes looked down, only then realizing that his hands were trembling. Slowly he placed the tray down on the stairs before collapsing next to it. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he tried not to cry.

"I knew it." He had seen it coming. He knew it couldn't have lasted. Yet he had hoped. He had prayed.

But now it was all for naught. Akihiko's comment could only mean one thing. He was having second thoughts. And the worst thing was that Misaki didn't blame him. He had been expecting this to happen. After all, who in their right mind would willingly harbor an enemy of the crown? Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't entered his room yet. Or at least, what would have been his room. Not that it mattered now, but still at least it wasn't going to be something else he would be missing. From the looks of things, he was probably going to be gone before the next morning.

Rising slowly he took up the tray and began his descent down to the kitchen. He might as well help the rabbit as much as he could before his departure.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

It was just as Misaki was leaving the kitchen, trying to get the last of the sticky black soap(2) from between his fingers that the doorbell rang. Hurrying up to it though he realized he had no idea how to answer. To the left of the door, about eye level was a shiny brass rectangle bearing on it countless coloured buttons and flashing lights all arranged around what looked to be a speaker. There were no labels anywhere, not even above the switches that lined the bottom of the apparatus. His bewilderment didn't last for long though, because a few seconds later, the sound of heels upon hardwood clicked clacked from around the corner, heralding the appearance of the red headed housekeeper.

"Hello Misaki? Is there someone at the door?"

"Yes, I mean, it rang, but I don't know how to—"

"Don't you worry your little head, I'll do it." And with that Aikawa's fingers began to dance over the brass panel, moving so fast at times her hands were mere blurs. Misaki stared open mouthed. A small chime sounded and Aikawa leaned her face towards the speaker.

"Who is it?"

"Good evening Madame, I'm from _La Langouste de Sartre_ (3) here with your delivery of _Omelet a la Carte."_

"If you'll wait there, I'll be right out."

"Of course, Madame," The bell sounded again and Aikawa turned to Misaki.

"That's your queue, Mr. Valet."

"W-what! I can't go out there! Look at how I'm dressed! It would reflect shamefully on Usagi-san." Aikawa took a minute to look over the short male before smiling sheepishly.

"Right. I forgot that Akihiko comes from a respectable family. He never really acts like it so I guess it must have slipped my mind." The doorbell sounded again and Aikawa reached for the door handle. "I'll get the food this time, but once you have proper clothes, I won't be doing your job for you." She shook her finger playfully at the brunette before disappearing out the door. Misaki hung his head low.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be a problem, Aikawa, it's not going to be my job much longer you see."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

With weighted steps small feet climbed the carpeted staircase, for what he was sure, would be the last time. He tried to take in the feel of where he was now. Here, serving at his beloved's side. It was like a fairy tale dream. Something beautiful and magical but at the same time something which would turn into nothing but pumpkins and rags at the stroke of midnight. Making his way across the semi cluttered parlour he knock tentatively at the door.

"Come in."

He turned the knob and pushed against the wood. Slowly the room was revealed. To the left, was the door to the bathroom he had yet to clean and probably never would, then farther down the wall the merrily crackling fireplace sending warmth radiating to every corner, but most importantly to the occupant of the bed set up on the opposite wall. Like a wine taster taking his last sip of the deep red liquid before swearing off alcohol entirely, Misaki's emerald eyes drank in the scene before him. There, lining every wall in the room were the countless Suzukisans, all looking at him in what he imagined to be sympathy, as though they understood the nature of his plight. He tore his eyes away from their pitying gaze to take in the most important occupant of the room; the silver-haired author, now gazing in puzzlement at him, as he sat up in the king-sized bed. The firelight flickered over his god like features, teasingly playing over his strong jaw and filling his silver strands with a subtle halo glow. Even his eyes seem to be affected by the warm light, flickering in places from a rich orange to deep violet, like the colours of a sunset.

"Misaki?"

"Y-yes? I-I mean, right, sorry." With hurried feet he padded hastily across the now bare wooden floor, skillfully avoiding the train set before coming to a stop at his master's bed.

"Misaki, is something the matter?" The sunset eyes looked at him, directing at him a gaze filled with puzzlement and worry.

"No, nothing's the matter. Ha, ha, ha…" His fabricated laughter died off until the only sound in the room was the quiet crackling of the fire. "I'll…um…get going now."

"Go where? Stay here."

Akihiko was momentarily shocked by the look given to him by the peridot eyes, now flicked with gold from the fire. At his words, something in Misaki seemed to have broken, leaving a great nothingness behind in its place**.** Misaki was asking him something, practically pleading with him, but he didn't know what it was and Misaki did not open his mouth to clarify.

_Akihiko can be too cruel sometimes. Doesn't he know the effect those words had on his already ragged heart. Doesn't he know how much it FUCKING HURTS to be asked to stay when he knows he is only going to be dismissed in the end?_

"What's wrong Misaki?" Rather than answering the other asked a question of his own.

"You said you wanted to talk to me?" Akihiko's face broke into a tender smile and for the first time since hearing the order a tiny flame of hope ignited inside the automaton's abused chest.

"Yes, I wanted to get to know you better." Emerald eyes widened.

"Really, that's all?"

"What else could it be?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

A smile of relief emerged and grew across the formerly pain-stricken features. The elder looked at him thoughtfully before a large hand came up and rested atop silky chocolate strands. Long, slender fingers threaded through, causing highlights of gold to emerge and shimmer in the light. Akihiko was suddenly overcame with the urge to confess his feelings, the words swelling in his throat and threatening to spill out into the open, but he held them back. He didn't want to scare away his companion. Said companion eyes were now closed as he leaned into the soothing caresses, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as his features relaxed in contentment. To soon though Misaki realized he was still holding the tray and, blushing harder in embarrassment, he placed it across the silver haired man's legs. To his regret the cool fingers slipped away in order to grasp the pewter utensils. The dome was lifted revealing Akihiko's dinner.

"Tonight's dinner is ham and asparagus omelet with a side dish of cream of mushroom soup. Accompanying this is French rosés from Nice. I hope it meets your taste."

"Yes, I think that will be very satisfactory."

Dipping into a formal bow Misaki stepped back and watched as his master cut into the omelet. His heart felt like it was singing in elation. Until then he had been holding back but now he realized he couldn't restrained it anymore. Letting go, he was almost overwhelmed by the foreign emotion that swelled inside him. It grew until it filled every nook and cranny of his being, finally threatening to burst through his skin and he didn't know what would happen then. The memory of this feeling was nostalgic, like from a half remembered dream. It brought back memories of soothing words, and tender embraces, the recollection of a long gone mother. The memories, for the first time, weren't sad though. In fact they were…there he had placed the feeling. He was happy.

The realization burst through him and suddenly he had the urge to dance, or sing, or even paint a picture. Something, anything, to capture the emotion. He wanted to share the ecstasy, to shout it from the top of the roof, to kiss his rabbit!

In fact he really wanted to kiss Akihiko. He wanted to reach out and grab the man's collar. He wanted to smash their lips together and taste the spicy addicted taste of Usagi-san. Against his control Misaki's face erupted into a bright tomato red and he clenched his hands tighter in order to restrain himself from the improper impulses. Akihiko was looking at him in amusement as if he knew exactly what was going through the boy's head.

"What are you thinking about Misaki?"

"I'm…um…thinking about…violins!" The word burst out of his mouth, a collection of syllables he hadn't uttered in decades, but the past was too near the surface now and he was falling back into old habits.

"Violins?" Akihiko obviously hadn't expected this. "What about them?"

"Well, playing them."

"Do you play the violin?"

"I used to. Not for a long time though." Inside Akihiko was elated. Any bit of information about Misaki was something to be treated as a treasure.

"You know, I think I have a violin somewhere around here. It was a birthday present when I was young. I really only kept it because Haruhiko fancied it and I could use it to hold over his head. Would you like to play it?" Misaki's eyes immediately lit up like an array of fireworks and Akihiko's breath caught as his smile widened. Suddenly though realization dawned over the younger's face and the joyful expression evaporated.

"I-I don't know. I haven't played in almost twenty years." His gaze was casted down at the floor as he wrung his hands nervously.

"I'm sure you can probably play it better than I ever could."

"I really wasn't that good."

"Misaki!" The boy squeaked at the sudden harshness of the other's tone.

"Y-yes?"

"I order you to find my violin and play it."

"But I um—I mean, yes master!" With a hasty bow he rushed out the door, presumably to go search through the other rooms. Akihiko sighed.

"Honestly, getting him to do anything for himself is like pulling teeth." Chuckling quietly he returned to his meal.

The grandfather clock in the sitting room was just striking the half hour as Misaki returned to the bedroom, a dark wooded violin cradled gingerly in his hands.

"Took you long enough."

"I'm sorry, but you really haven't unpacked all your things yet. I found it at the very bottom of one of the crates. Honestly, what were they thinking, putting a delicate thing like this underneath all your belongings?"

"I was in a hurry to leave, but that's not important. Now that you have it, I want you to play for me."

"Right now? But what about your dishes." Akihiko looked down at the dirty dishes now cluttering his bed.

"Fine, I'll let you clear them up, but _then_ you have to play for me."

"Of course."

If Akihiko had been standing he would be tapping his foot in impatience but since he wasn't, he resigned himself to drumming his fingers on crossed arms before finally giving up and rolling a cigarette. He smirked as the sudden thought of his father crossed his mind. What would the old lord say after seeing him smoking one? He betted Lord Usami would have a heart attack at this show of lower class habits. As soon as Misaki returned, he made a beeline to the fireplace.

"Forget the fire Misaki. It can go out if it wants. Just play the violin."

"R-right." Gingerly pale fingers took hold of the instrument and as he raised it to his chin a faraway look came into the automaton's eyes and as if by some magic spell his entire body relaxed at the feeling of the familiar weight upon his collarbone. Fingers slid into place as the splendid wings unfurled and at the first note from the bow sliding across the string, Akihiko realized he was in the presence of a master.

It started with a thin strain, quiet and shy, like a deer hiding from a stray forest traveler, when suddenly the deer spooked and took off into a merry flight, springing and weaving its way through the wood. Gradually the mad dash of the deer turned into the majestic flight of a wild hawk as it rode the winds, eyes keen and sharp as it searched for its dinner, ruled by no laws but the one of survival. All at once, the hawk metamorphosed into a wave, swelling before crashing against the rocks scattering into sea spray leaving behind nothing but a salty taste on the lips and a slight watering of the eyes. For indeed Akihiko found his eyes filling with liquid as he listened to the liquid emotions spilling out from the boy in the middle of the room. Shadows from the dying fire flickered over the whirling gears of his wings and for the first time he realized that in each of the clear synthetic feathers there was a little rainbow dancing along with the flames as they too absorbed the music. Tears were streaming down his face now and he realized he was crying and he didn't know why.

Too soon the song ended and the world returned, like breaking through the reflective surface of a lake and taking a great breath of air, realizing that yes, the universe was bigger and yes, there were other people in it. Peridot eyes gazed out from a shadowed face, looking to their master for approval, but Akihiko found himself tongue tied. What should he say? Should he say it was good? It wasn't bad, but good just didn't seem to be the proper word. Neither did magnificent, or beautiful, or enchanting. It was beyond all that, beyond all mortal expression. Misaki's face fell as the silence prolonged, the only noise coming from the fire and the occasional rattle of a carriage passing by outside. Words seemed so pointless now, but he knew he needed to do something, so the bedridden man held out his hand in invitation. Silently the other approached and placed his own petite fingers within the all-encompassing grasp of the larger. Holding it as one might hold a robin's egg, Akihiko pulled him forwards, and setting the violin aside, gathered the smaller frame into his arms. The elfin face pressed itself into his hair as Misaki's breath glided over his skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

A slight push on his shoulders was all it took for the brunette to draw back, giving the silver haired male the opportunity to press his lips against the rosy pink ones. It was both wild passion and calming tenderness, an impossible combination of firm and soft. Something akin to a sigh and a moan escaped from the automaton and Akihiko took his chance and plunged his tongue into the heated cavern. A dance followed in which the muscles twisted and rubbed together before the smaller finally conceded and surrendered himself to the plundering of the other. Too soon though they had to break for air and gazing into the lust clouded emerald pools, Akihiko realized he could hold back no longer.

"_I love you_."

Misaki ran.

**Horse: A wooden or metal structure designed to hold clothes. Type in valet on Google or look at the first Eloise book. In the illustration of her room you can see one on the right which Eloise has hung her clothes on. And before you say anything, I teach grade school part time. **

**Black soap: God the soap was goopy back then. Not to mention sticky. Recipes vary but they included things like ash and fat. Whatever the recipe though, they were all known for drying out your hands like there is no tomorrow. If you were lucky you had the money to buy a pair of cotton gloves so every night you would coat your hands in that waxy water proof stuff people get from sheep's wool and then you would put the gloves on. Speaking from experience this giving you **_**really**_** soft hands.**

_**La Langouste de Sartre- **_**Sartre was a famous philosopher, play write, author who mescaline in Venice and reported a lobster was following him everywhere. This was totally a early twentieth century thing, but I couldn't resist. Sorry. **

**I just finished celebrating my birthday. I held a waffle/pajama party with my friends, meaning I made a huge tower of waffles, twenty different topping and we watched Princess Bride and Moonrise Kingdom. Well we didn't so much watch Princess Bride as act it out with my sister making cynical comments in the background. We were supposed to continue on with watching Stardust but we ended up being side track by Doctor Who memes, Daniel Radcliffe singing the elements song, and Mythbusters explosions. **

**Meme Example:**

**You're on the shore about to be killed by your wife, while trying to be saved by your wife, and at the same time your best friend is watching and is also pregnant…**

…**WITH YOUR WIFE!**

**(Three cheers for time travel!)**

**You know, I kind of wonder about those people who are always talking about those late night lesbian parties. They probably weren't thinking of this when they talk about getting all the sluts into one room together. Unless they actually were thinking about said bunch of sluts trying to sing along to Chameleon Circuit's Big Bang 2. **

**F.Y.I. I might, maybe, somewhere down the road, be writing a short Doctor Who/Junjou crossover in which the Doctor lands in Hiroki and Nowaki's bedroom. And Hiroki goes ballistic. Look forward to it.**

**Also, for those of you who actually watch Doctor Who. Is anyone as excited about the new companion as I am? Also, DON'T CRY! Then Moffat wins!**


	9. Chapter 9 plus Sodomy Essay

The soft click of the latch was what woke him. Tired lids rose to reveal sleep-hazed eyes before the realization of the significance behind the sound dawned on the man and he shot up, glancing around wildly before groaning at the pain that suddenly burn across his stomach. It was for naught though because the only sight his wide lavender eyes were met with was that of his tidy but silent room, and a pewter salver(1) balanced on the side table holding his breakfast. He groaned and sunk back into the mattress, silently cursing himself for being too late.

Why? Why did he have to say that last night? Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut? Misaki probably never wanted to see him again. He had barely slept from the regret that flooded his mind. Why did he have to be such an idiot?

No, he was going to have to stop thinking like this. He was Usami Akihiko and he would have his way, god damn it! If Misaki didn't want to face him, then he was just going to have to make him.

And he had a plan.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Blank eyes stared across the wooden-paneled floor, hollow and flat, they gazed sightless at the small clumps of dirt that littered his room. His limps were stiff from lack of movement and it pained him to shift them, something he discovered a few hours ago when he had gone to deliver his master's breakfast.

Aside from that small exertion though, he hadn't moved all night, having collapsed there hours ago after hearing those words. Yes _those_ words. Words he longed for. Words he had spent every day praying for. He had begged for those words, with every fiber of his being.

And now he had them, he would do anything to rewrite time and avoid those dreaded syllables. Because the pain he was feeling now was not worth it. Nothing was worth this. _Nothing_.

A low keening escaped from him and he curled further into himself, wrapping his arms over his head as if to shield himself from the hurt, even though he knew the assault came not from any external forces. Every muscle was taut; eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, he attempted to fight back against the pain. Just think of something else. Think of lemon mousse cake. Think of the folding technique unique to combining the egg whites with the lemon and cream. Just don't think about…don't think about—

_I love you…_

Fingers tangled themselves into the dirt-covered strands and pulled, trying to silence the echo of the confession. But it was entirely futile; the sentence kept repeating itself, pounding against the walls of his mind until he could focus on nothing else.

Why? Why did he have to say that?

Why did he have to say that when they both knew it wasn't true?

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

A small chime came from the grandfather clock just outside the door to his bedroom. Violet eyes looked up from the blank paper as he inwardly counted the chimes.

One…

Two…

Three…

Misaki was late. It was an hour past the time he should have appeared with his dinner. How was he supposed to catch his mouse if said mouse never approached the trap? He gazed in frustration at the bell pull by his bed. All his life he had had to do nothing more than pull on that tasseled rope and a servant would appear within a few moments, ready to cater to his every desire. But now his hands were tied. Pulling that rope might summon his lone servant, but it would also spoil the bait. He wanted to throw something it was so frustrating, but he knew he must be silent.

Still, if Misaki never came, then the whole thing would be for naught. He turned back to the white sheet in front of him. He had tried to pass the time in the usual manner, jotting down and scribbling out whatever ideas that came to his mind, but at the moment there was nothing. He was empty. It scared him slightly. Without the presence on his new valet he was idealess, something which had never before happened in the entirety of his life. And to not be able to write…that was…

He needed Misaki. It was no longer just a greedy desire, but an actual essential aspect of his existence.

He could not understand though why the boy had run. As soon as he had confessed this to him, the other fled, giving Akihiko nothing more than a fleeting glimpse of agony stricken features.

Suddenly his ears picked up the soft tread of feet outside his bedroom door and he dove beneath the covers, instantly relaxing his face into an illusion of sleep. The sounds outside stopped and the author took the opportunity to steady his breathing, as his heart seemed to be beating like a racehorse on derby day(2).

After what seemed like an eternity the door finally opened, the creaking of its hinges cutting through the silence making the larger man's breath hitch. Quickly he corrected his mistake, once again slowing his breathing as he listened to the subtle pad of bare feet over the Persian rug. There was a small clink of china as what he assumed was the tray containing his dinner, was set down beside him. After that though was silence. No retreating footsteps, no creaking hinges as his valet fled the room. Not even a ruffling of fabric or a shifting of weight over the floor to indicate that the other was still there. Nothing but silence. No wait, he could hear it, the subtle whirling of gears and the feint ticking of Misaki's heart. Misaki was standing over him, unmoving as a statue but still, he was there. A hesitant whisper broke the tense atmosphere.

"Usagi-san?" The author did not respond.

"Are you asleep, Usagi-san?" Still he gave no indication that he had heard. "Well, I guess that makes sense. After all, there really isn't much else to do when you're stuck in bed all day." The sounds of shaky laughter fell upon the man's still form before dying down into nothingness. The functioning gears of Misaki's machinery were once again the only sound in the bedroom. It was louder now and the noble wondered if Misaki had let out his wings. The other day the smaller man had told him about the cramped feeling of keeping them concealed for too long and Akihiko knew he released them when he was nervous.

"Why did you say that Usagi-san?" There was another pause, just long enough for Akihiko to know that the brunette really wasn't expecting an answer. "Do you realize how painful it was to hear you say that? Do you even know how much it hurts to finally hear the words you've prayed for all your life only to realize they aren't true? Why are you so cruel Usagi-san?" Violet eyes snapped open and strong fingers shot out to coil around a bony wrist.

"You thought I was lying?!"

"U-Usagi-san! You're awa—!?"

"Answer the question!"

"Yes—I mean o-of c-course I thought you were lying." Wide peridot eyes caught the sudden flash of hurt within the gaze of the other and widened even further, though whether it was in surprise or fear, the author could not make out.

"Why would you think that Misaki? What reason do I have to lie?" Slender arms tugged fruitlessly in a vain attempt at freedom. As he had thought the artificial wings had been released and now they flapped frantically as he tried to pull away. The only result though was a strong breeze that rose up to blow the silver hair away from the noble's face and send the blank papers from earlier flying into the air.

"What reason do you have to tell the truth?"

"I have countless reasons. Do you want me to list them out for you?"

"Stop it Usagi-san. Just stop it. This joke has long since lost its humor."

"You think this is a joke?! Misaki, I love you!"

"Shut up! Stop lying to me!" Not once did Misaki look up, rather he had hidden his expression behind a thick mess of coffee tinted strands, and without the sight of those forest green eyes, Akihiko began to lose heart.

"Misaki, I'm not lying! Why won't you believe me?!"

"Because I have no reason to."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that since the time you were sixteen you've bedded almost every servant in the manor, along with any and all that came as guests! And now I find you living with a woman! Do you really think a few kisses are going to lead me to believe that you love me?! Do you really take me for such a fool?" Misaki was panting now, his eyes wild and frantic, like a trapped animal trying at anything in order to avoid injury. Akihiko could not see this and could only stare, jaw hanging open in shock at the truth that spilled out.

"You knew?"

"How could I not bloody know when I was the one who washed your bleedin' sheets every bloody time!" Not in a very long time had he felt as furious as this. He knew he was acting unlike himself, but his body no longer seemed to be under his control. A heated inferno had lit in his stomach, telling him to hurt, to wound, to rip his enemy to shreds before they did the same to him. The part of him that was telling him to stop, the same part that was causing his chest to squeeze at the guilt in the rabbit's eyes, was slowly being burned away in the wake of his new fiery self.

"Misaki, they mean nothing to me. Nothing more than a means to pass the time and get back at my father." Akihiko hated where he was now, reduced to making excuses and practically begging for forgiveness, like a wife caught cheating on her husband. It tore at his pride but he didn't know what else he could do. He needed to convince Misaki of his feelings, a task that now seemed practically impossible. Once again the automaton tugged at his wrist but Akihiko only held on tighter.

"Is that so? And how do I know I'm not the same. How do I know your words are true when I've heard them spoken to practically every footman and kitchen maid from here to Brighton?!"

"Because you're different Misaki! You are above them. The feelings I have for you are beyond anything I've ever felt in my life!"

"You're a liar! You've built your whole career on telling lies! I'm nothing more than another conquest to you! The half human, half-monster freak! The fifty year old in a child's body! I'm just something different you can add to your collection. Now tell me Akihiko, tell me I'm wrong!"

The noble felt as if a great hammer had struck him at the sound if his name being spat like poison from the other's lips. Not his title, not some insult, not even the childish nickname he had begun looking forward to. No, it was his name, and it sounded like an accusation of sin knifed straight to his gut. At its sound all the fight died inside of him, withering into mere carcasses ready to be scattered by the wind.

"Look at me Misaki."

"No!"

"Misaki…"

"Shut up!"

"Misaki, look at me…_please_." There was a shaky gasp and slowly the automaton's face lifted. _Akihiko never said please_. He was not a man to ask, but to order. The fact that he could show such manners to a freak like him… the shock acted like a bucket of ice water, in an instant dousing all the flames within him allowing for the other voice, the one stemming from his heart, to finally be heard.

Amethyst locked with emerald and they froze, each trying to read the other, both attempting in some way to make clear not only their own thoughts but of those of the man opposite to them. Misaki's limbs shook as he breathed heavily; trying to regain the smiling mask he usually kept to hide his vulnerable emotions. It would not appear though, the author's plea having scattered it into dust. Desperately he attempted to build another one, but from the look on the other's face it was too late. Akihiko could see it all clearly. He could see the despair and the loneliness, and the pain. What the lavender eyes were most focused on though was the longing. From one look he was able to discern just how much Misaki wanted him, and also with that look he was able to pick out the different parts of that want. The tenderness, the admiration, the protectiveness, even a slight hint of lust. But most of all though, he could see the love… Realizing what the noble had done, Misaki flinched away.

"Misaki." The word was both a request and a call. At the same time, it told Misaki that the author had seen everything and had understood, it told him that what had been revealed, had also been accepted. Gently cool fingers released the boy's wrist in favor of rising to tenderly cup one porcelain cheek. A soft pull was all it took for the automaton to once again turn his face to the other.

"Misaki, I want you to look at me as I say this to you." The brunette gulped but did not look away. "I love you."

And Misaki understood.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

For the first time that winter, the sky above London was clear and the stars were finally able to twinkle joyfully down upon the city's inhabitants. Emerald eyes shone back at them from within a strong-armed embrace, the absolute bliss swelling in their depths overflowed until it lit the rest of the room, giving it a calm, peaceful atmosphere as if their little sanctuary had been separated from the rest of the universe. Their only interaction with the cruel world outside was the window, with its curtains drawn back, letting in the light of the stars. Misaki kept telling himself he was going to get up and close them but it hadn't happened yet and somehow he doubted it would happen anytime soon. His belly was full and the arms of the man curled around him bore in them a unique warmth seeping out from underneath the cold, just as he had always suspected. Opposite there was a fire in the hearth lending its heat to the rest of the room. The flames danced merrily in the polished surface of the violin, currently propped up on a chair, just far enough away from the flame so as not to warp. It had been barely an hour since it had been set down and the brunette could still feel its resonance vibrating beneath his chin. Giving up his view of the night sky he burrowed his face into the junction created by the neck and shoulder of a certain author.

"Mmmh…Misaki?"

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, I wasn't really asleep. Just thinking." The automaton was quiet, waiting for his master to continue. A soft upturn of the lips appeared upon the other's face as he marveled at how adorable one can seem merely from being confused. "I was thinking about you." To emphasize his point, the larger man leaned forward, it wasn't very far, just an inch or two really, and planted a chaste kiss just before the other's petite ear.

"You were thinking about me?"

"That's what I said."

"Anything in particular?"

"Hmmm…I wonder…"

"Usagi-saaaan, tell meeee." On anyone else the whiny tone of the question would have warranted complete disregard from the author, maybe even an upturned nose of disapproval if they were to persist. But from Misaki, like everything else about the boy, it was a treasure to be adored and in turn, produced a low chuckle from the resident aristocrat.

"I was thinking about what makes you happy." Large eyes blinked in bewilderment.

"What makes me happy? Why on earth would you be thinking of that?"

"Because that's what I want you to be, silly. I seem though, to have run into a wall and may be requiring a little of your assistance."

"I'm always here to help Usagi-san, you know that. Just tell me what I can do."

"Well for starters you can tell me about what you love."

"What I love?"

"In another life you would have made a very good parrot."

"Usaaagi-saaan."

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Couldn't resist, he says." Low grumbling fell upon the author's amused ears.

"Come on Misaki, don't be that way. Just answer the question."

"You have a funny way of asking for things."

"But you are not surprised."

"I know you too well to be surprised."

"And on the other hand I know nothing about you. So what do I have to do to get you to answer the question?"

"…I'll answer." There was a short silence in which Misaki made no indication of continuing.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking." More silence filled the space between them, until finally, "I love cake." The resulting sigh spoke of the greatest patience being tested to its absolute limit.

"Anything else you can come up with?"

"Violins?"

"…"

"Don't look at me like that! I can't really think of anything."

"Don't you ever think about wanting something?"

"Well certainly not as much as you do."

"_Touché_."

"You're not ashamed of that at all, are you." It was not a question.

"Tell me about your brother."

"My brother?"

"Yes. You love him, don't you?"

"Yes!"

"Was he the one who…made you?"

"Yes. He was brilliant scientist and would have been a marvelous doctor! He never did get to finished his schooling though." A melancholy air began to seep out and replace the joy that had formerly occupied the space between them. Not that there was much space to fill that is.

"Why is that?"

"We…well…couldn't really afford it. I became very ill six months before he was going to take his exams in order finish his schooling."

"You were ill?" A worried crease appeared between two silver brows, but the small finger that came up to rub out the area shortly ended its life.

"I was born with a weak constitution. I never left the house as a child and barely even left my bed. Of course there were the concerts."

"Concerts?"

"Yes, I used to play the violin so that brother could continue his education. But then I developed The Cough(3) and the concert hall I was playing at wouldn't give us the money they owed. Something about breaking a contract or something. In the end though brother had to drop out. But that was a long time ago Usagi-san. It's not important anymore."

"It's your story Misaki, and I demand to know every detail." By now Akihiko was lying on his back one arm behind his head and the other rubbing slow circles between the metal projections around Misaki's shoulder blades. Said boy was half draped over the broad chest of the silver haired rabbit, careful to avoid the other's stomach wounds at the same time as he attempted to press as much of himself to the other's firm body as possible. "So won't you consider my request Misaki?" There was a sigh of defeat.

"What else do you want to know?"

"Everything. Why do you have these?" A couple of fingers ran reverently down one copped shaft. "Just how much of you is mechanical? If your brother is such a genius, how come I've never heard of him?"

"You want me to answer everything?" The tone was almost pleading, as if he had half-hoped the answer would be no.

"Yes."

"Fine, then I guess I best start with the last question…"

"You're still waiting for me to stop you."

"..Just kind of."

"You'll be waiting for quite a while in that case."

"Alright, then, I'll start!" Usagi could have sworn that in the low grumbles that followed he could make out the word 'prick' and maybe even 'bastard' but he only smiled and continued his slow oscillations over his beloved's shoulder blades. Finally Misaki drew a deep breath and began to speech in a hurried manner, as if eager to get it over with. As he talked though, he began to slow in his speech until Akihiko was sure he was seeing the memory play before his eyes for every sentence he spoke.

"…Brother and I lost our parents when I was eight and him twenty. As a result we never seemed to have enough money. In fact, the only things of value left to us were my mother's violin and the skills my father had taught Brother in horology. It was discovered earlier on though that I possessed an affinity for the musical instrument and he, an affinity for the mechanical instruments. There wasn't much call for either though in the small seaside town we grew up in, so when I was twelve, Brother took us to London." Misaki drew in a shaky breath as he gazed at the fire, his eyes glazed over with a film of memories.

"My lungs had always been weak back then, even when we lived in the clean air of the seashore. Not to mention you could name any illness and I would most likely be speaking from experience in describing its symptoms. So needless to say, a sudden move into a tightly packed, filthy city like this one did more harm than good. It was because of me, in an attempt to prolong my life that Brother abandoned the profession of clock work in favor of a more medically oriented one." There was a shaky breath before the story continued.

"It was hard on him Usagi-san, much harder than it should have been. He would sometimes go days without food so that I might have medicine. I kept telling him to stop it and just give up already, but he wouldn't. He just kept taking care of me! He wouldn't quit! I was nothing more than a bloody burden and he wouldn't put me down!"

Tears shone at the corners of the automaton's eyes as his voice began to verge on hysterics, and Akihiko found himself once again cradling the other against his chest as he murmured sweet nothings into the shell of the automaton's ear. The younger man was beginning to regret bringing up the subject and debated telling the elder to stop, but he knew it was necessary. In order to help Misaki the way he wanted to, he needed to understand the other first. It was akin to unwrapping bandages that had become stiff with dried blood and filth in order to see the wound and clean it before wrapping it back up with fresh linens. Eventually the quiet sobs died out and the brunette was able to speak again.

"In no time it got really bad. I wasn't aware of it at the time since I really wasn't even conscious for more than a few minutes every day, if that, but Brother was getting beyond desperate. He was taking out loans he couldn't pay back, and at the same time he was getting these crazy ideas in his head. It was those ludicrous ideas that put me where I am right now. He was convinced he could keep my heart beating, of not organically then artificially by harnessing his knowledge of both clockwork and anatomy."

"Wait, so you're telling me he managed to create a machine that kept your heart beating even when the rest of your body fails,"

"Oh no, he managed to keep the rest of my organs working as well. My stomach, and my liver, as well as my tissue and muscles. Everything. All powered by protein and vitamins, just like before. I still have to eat, just lesser than a normal person."

"But that's genius!"

"And not to mention expensive. You can't even imagine the debt Brother managed to rack up just to keep me alive. He had to make deals with the most shady of folks in order to keep buying the supplies he, well really I, needed. The underbelly of London is riddled with the ugliest parasites and it just so happened that Brother managed to make a deal with the worst of them. Some secret societies type thing eventually got wind of what he was doing, and realizing just how smart he was, wanted him for their own. In exchange for the money needed, he was going to help them take over the crown. Cracked, I know," He must have caught sight of the baffled expression upon his audience's face. "But Brother had long since lost hold of his reason. He wanted me alive and if he had to turn traitor then so be it."

"That still doesn't explain why he added the wings."

"Keep your breeches on, I'm getting there. So I'm pretty sure it's obvious by now, but an organization like that isn't going to invest in anything unless they can get the greatest amount of profit from it. Not only did they want Brother as their lead scientist, the also wanted me to act as one of their soldiers. Imagine it from their point of view. What was Brother making? Why, an immortal soldier, who not only runs on half rations but can function for twice as long as any normal soldier. And just to add the icing to the cake, why not make him fly too? Do you see where I'm going with this?" There was silence as Akihiko attempted to digest all the information being shoveled down his throat.

"They…they didn't just stop at one, did they?"

"No, they didn't. Somewhere out there is my brother's son, my nephew."

"What happened to him?"

"I haven't got a clue. Just as my brother finished him and was about to install his wings the queen got wind of what was going on behind her back and parliament sent an armed guard to come arrest everyone involved. There was a struggle. I fought so hard. I stayed behind as Brother escaped through the air ducts. But something in the lab sparked and before I knew what was happening the whole street was b-blown sky high… T-that was the last I saw of my brother…or my nephew. The next day I woke up severely broken in the sewers. I-I'm not sure what happened next…I…I was s-somehow still able to f-fly…think I flew all the way into the royal bedchambers before they noticed my attack. I was forced to escape and ended up collapsing in exhaustion on the grounds of your mansion. I-I was so ready to die..."

"Misaki breathe." The tears were back now, having augmented though the last of the rushed story until Misaki's small chest was heaving, his rib cage expanding and contracting at a far too rapid pace in order for him to continue in drawing air to his lungs.

"Usa…gisan…I…I…"

"Come on Misaki look at me." Wild tear-filled eyes locked on to those of stern lavender, "Now count with me, breathe in…one….two…three…four…five. Now breathe out."

Eventually, thanks, in most part to stern instructions coupled with soothing caresses, Misaki calmed down until he was able once again to provide his blood with the oxygen it needed. The tears though didn't stop for at least another hour in which Akihiko never ceased in his steady caresses upon the other's back. It was only when the last sob hadn't been heard for a while that Akihiko felt it proper to speak again.

"Misaki, I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But I am. I shouldn't have made you bring up those memories. It was selfish and wrong of me. Please accept my apology."

"I won't, there's no reason for it. If anything, I should be thanking you. I've had those memories locked up for twenty-nine years. I think it's high time I released them and got over it, don't you."

"If it makes you feel better, then yes it was worth it." The rabbit planted a soft kiss to the other's forehead. "But I don't want you forgetting them, alright?"

"Why not, it would make life easier, wouldn't it? I wouldn't be such a burden to you."

"Misaki, you must understand that there are many types of burdens. There are the burdens akin to carrying a load of schoolbooks. Something you know you must do because it will better your future, but at the same time you would do anything to not have to continue holding. There are also the types that are like holding on as tight as you can to a stuffed bear. Those are the types that not only make you happy as you are carrying them, but will make you happy in the future too, when you still have that bear and haven't dropped it. Do you understand?"

"So basically you're saying that holding on to my memories is like holding onto school books?" There was a nod of confirmation. Misaki placed a finger to his lips in thought. "But what's the other one?"

"My holding onto you silly. Having you next to me makes me the happiest man in the world. Holding on to you in the future will make me king of the universe."

"Don't say things like that. It's embarrassing." Misaki hid his face into his new favorite spot on the younger male, more specifically the place between his firm jawbone, and the strong muscles of his shoulder. It was warm there and he found he could feel the pulse of the other's heart if he listened close enough. It was calming and gave him a sense of closeness and belonging he did not remember ever feeling before, not even with his brother. '_I guess this makes Usagi-san my stuffed bear then. Though he's more like a stuffed rabbit really.'_ He thought, a smile growing on his lips as he momentarily forgot his embarrassment.

"Misaki, if you don't stop now, the embarrassment is going to be a mere tadpole compared to what I'm going to make you experience later." Misaki quickly drew back, looking into the other's eyes to see if he was serious.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

"You're hurt Usagi-san. You would pull clear through all your stitches if we attempted to…you know!" The finger he had been shaking at the deviously grinning rabbit faltered as his face lit up like a fresh raspberry. "Stop looking at me like that! I'm warning you, I'll…"

"You'll what Misaki." Akihiko had drawn the other forward until their noses were touching. Misaki could feel every breath of the larger man burning across his lips as he carefully pronounced the syllables of his name, rolling each one over his tongue, like an epicurean tasting a new Belgian chocolate. The brunette gulped.

"I…I'll…I mean….d-do…do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then prove it. Show me you're not just trying to get into my pants." Despite the flush nature of his face, Misaki's voice was steady and he was able to maintain eye contact at every words. Sure, he was protecting his own chastity, but as always, when it all boiled down, what he was doing was for his rabbit's benefit, thus giving him the confidence to continue. Nothing on earth could make Misaki allow his loved one do anything which might rip his stitches. Akihiko narrowed his eyes.

"What are you asking?"

"I want you to hold off for the next three weeks." Pupils dilated as violet eyes widened at the very idea.

"Three weeks? You can't be serious!"

"That's what I'm offering, take it or leave it."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Takahashi."

"I am twenty-seven years your senior Mr. Usami. Now, do we have a deal?"

"As much as it pains me, I see that I am going to have to give in to the demands of my elder."

"Pinky promise?" The expressions on both faces morphed into goofy smiles as Misaki held up one hooked finger.

"Cross my heart." They shook.

"God your hands are bloody freezing!"

"Well then I guess you had better warm them for me."

"Oh shut up."

With that Misaki drew the covers over both of them, as his silver haired business partner wrapped both arms around him, and they both settled down for a well-earned rest.

**Salver= That silver tray thing Sebastian throws around. You know what I'm talking about. If not see episode 2 of season 1. It's round like a Frisbee and is used to carry things like letters, drinks and food.**

**Derby Day= It is **_**the**_** day. Everyone goes to Derby (Pronounced daawrby, long 'a' as in you darn your socks.) Day. From the Queen to the fish mongers it is almost a holiday. It is both a fair and a race week held in May and sometimes June, located at Epsom racecourse. Although the thing is intended as a day to watch horses race it mainly acts as a day to show off the latest fashion (most notably your hat) and in the less reputable side of society, make a killing. The painting Derby Day by William Frith Powell (1856-8) gives us a nice panoramic view of the whole event. At the left we get to see the dishonest gamblers and to the right we get to see the ladies in all their finest spring attire. If you're actually interested enough to go look at the painting, you will notice a great big box in the stands. At the top of the box is where the queen sits with all the nobles and big peoples. If the Usami family were actually a family, they would be sitting up there.**

**The Cough= Tuberculosis. The killer of many a great men. **

**Now for a little history on homophobia. Feel free to ignore, this is basically me rambling.**

**Since I'm sure you all are like, "What?! Why is Usagisan such a slut?! He's having sex with dudes and it was alright?!" I want you all to know this was normal behavior for back then. Alright, maybe he bedded a few more than normal, but doing it with both guys and gals was an everyday thing, it just wasn't talked about. If it did then you most likely would end up Like Mr. Oscar Wilde working at a labor camp 'cuz yah happen tah like dah guyz. *snaps fingers in front of face***

**Sodomy has always been around. In fact the name comes from the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, you know the two cities that suffered the wrath of god because some dudes decided to rape a few angels. Apparently these angels also happened to be dudes and thus we get the name sodomy along with the term 'pillar of salt' (but that's a whole different story.)**

**People never really liked gays. The reason gays are called faggots is because as punishment for their sexuality they would be thrown among the logs used to burn witches with the rest of the faggots. Faggots being bundles of sticks. It is only though in the time of King Henry VIII of England that it became outlawed. This was because the burning and burying alive of gays had become so rampant that the king had to do something to prevent people from continually taking the law into their own hands. So he outlawed 'buggery.' Which incidentally means anything from bestiality, to fetishes, to homosexuality (btw Homosexuality wasn't used in text until 1892). Buggery lost its meaning though in the 1920's when people started to use it as slang for annoying. Makes me think of my science teacher and his preference to the term, 'You're bugging the crap out of me.' *snicker snicker***

**Much like many other English laws, pplz forgot about it for the next few hundred years. England has a ton of laws like these that people just forget about. Like, did you know, it was still legal to burn a witch in England until around the 1950-60's?**

**That is until the time of the Napoleonic wars. I was reading through documents (court cases/newspapers, you know, that stuff) when suddenly I noticed a sudden influx of hanging sailors for again, buggery. When you think about it though, it makes sense. England was at was with the French superpower. Undue attachment among the crew could be the difference between winning and losing a battle.**

**I believe I said before that Akihiko's behavior was normal. Let us take this moment to analyze Victorian society. Come the rise of the Evangelical church, families became closer knit (Observe the loss of the balcony in architecture of the period. Heaven forbid we do anything outside where the neighbors can see!) and cut off from the outside world, yet still there was a segregation between boy children and girl children. After a boy has been breeched he was required to play with boys and boys only. And then he went to a male only boarding school and then some kind of military academy or university, all of which forbid contact with the fairer sex. So now we have this young Victorian man, all grown up after having spent his whole life surrounded by men. And now you expect him to get married, to a WOMAN! Those fragile doll like creatures he has been told time and time again are only fit for raising children?! Seriously?! He has to spend the rest of his life with one of **_**those**_**?!**

**Needless to say, many males ended up like Sherlock Holmes.**

**End of Essay.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Everything but the characters belongs to MEEEEEEEEE!**

Closer…closer…that's right. You've got it. Just a few steps…AHAH!

Misaki leaps from the kitchen table, iron skillet in hand and slammed the cooking utensils on to the tiles with the combined strength of every muscle in his petite frame.

The target of his wrath, that which others would recognize as an ordinary cockroach, was not pleased, and made this known by flying into the poor valet's face before buzzing off into some unknown corner of the kitchen.(1) Violent curses escaped deceptively pure lips as slender fingers came up to grip and pull at previously tried brunette locks in a perfect example of man's struggle against all odds in this mortal coil.

Composing himself, emerald eyes narrowed as they scanned the room. He was a fearsome tiger, stalking his pray in the teeming jungles of the Far East. He was a sniper picking off Ivan's men as they vainly attempted to claim her Majesty's possessions.(2) This was a battle field and the enemy would be defeated at all costs! There, attempting to blend in with the black lacquer of the range! Right next to his master's breakfast! This meant WAR!

With a battle cry the enraged automaton leapt, skillet in hand only to be cut short as the clear sound of a bell cut through the cannon fire and clang of his illusionary battle field. Misaki froze, hand above his head, poised to vanquish the long sought after foe, as the sound brought him back to the silent tiled kitchen of his master's home. The bell rang again, this time with an added impatience, no doubt Akihiko wondering where his breakfast was. With slightly rosy cheeks Misaki replaced his battle worn weapon and picked up the silver tray containing his employer's kippers and tea.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Three days.

Akihiko straightened his cravat.

Twelve hours.

With a snap of the wrist a royal purple waist coat was straightened over an indignant chest.

And fifty four minutes.

Emerald cufflinks were scooped up from atop the vanity. Akihiko growled.

Three days, twelve hours, and fifty four minutes. That's how long it would take for his time limit to be up, and was he counting? No, of course not. Another growl escaped as once again he found himself standing in front of the full length mirror in his bed chamber, trying and failing to fasten those infernal cufflinks. In a proper household this would be his valet's job, but in a proper household the master generally did not find his mind consumed night and day with the thought of said valet, naked and flushed, writhing beneath him as they worked together to dirty the sheets.

Giving up he gave an impatient tug to the bell pull almost tearing the contraption out of the wall. It had been a week ago when he had discovered that yes, he could leave the bed but no, he couldn't have Misaki dress him without ending up with a rather uncomfortable problem for so early in the morning. So slowly but steadily, through trial and error, along with many laughs of the part of his singular servant, he had been learning to dress himself.

If his brother could see him now…

That thought was cut off with another violent yank to the bell. Where was Misaki? He wasn't complaining because honestly, the boy was a power house, getting up at four every morning to whiten the steps,(3) clean all the fire places, and cook breakfast along with whatever else servants did. Akihiko's eyes took on a warm look as he thought of his valet running the entirety of his household all on his own. The maid had had the shock of her life last week coming in ready for the usual pig sty only to be met with an innocently smiling boy standing in a practically sparkling entry way. From his perch in an armchair in the morning room (4) the master of the house had watched as the maid bustled from room to room trying to find the catch. He was half convinced that she thought Misaki to be some kind of life sized brownie. All frustration left his tense frame as he remembered her suspicious look as she has stomped her way out of the house, an amused Misaki politely shutting the door behind her.

"_And I suppose that will be the last of her." The silver haired man sat in a plush armchair with its back half turned to the triptych window allowing the gentle light of the morning sun to filter through the white translucent curtains before settling in his hair, giving it an almost unearthly shimmer. He was looking up from his book, the novel being held open by on elegant hand as the other silently replaced a Wedgewood(5) teacup on the silver tray to his right. The light of the sun reflected off the silver of the teapot as it whirled its gears and with a series of almost inaudible clicks, tipped forward to refill the empty blue cup. Bouncing and expanding the light shone onto the noble's skin giving Misaki a brief illusion of an angel, waiting for him in place of his beloved. The man's whole body emanated the air of the being from the plain above. Every centimeter, from the amused arch of one eyebrow down to his long legs, crossed in a position of almost superior laziness, as the automaton liked to call it. Said brunette had to blink a couple of times before remembering that he has supposed to respond._

"_In all likelihood, yes."_

"_You do realize she was the only help you will ever be getting with this house unless I happen to hire another girl." Misaki shot him a teasing glance._

"_Replacing me so soon are you?" With quick steps the shorter man cross the entry way onto the morning room, his shiny new shoes padding silently over the Persian rug, until he was standing in front of the noble. _

"_Are you giving me a reason to?"_

"_I sincerely hope not." That had been where the jest ended and a worried look fell across his beloved's fair features. It seemed Misaki really had been concerned about being replaced._

"_Misaki come here." As the valet advance Akihiko made sure to mark his place before laying his book on a side table and uncrossing his legs._

"_Yes?"_

"_Closer." Realization dawned in Misaki's eyes._

"_We've played this game before." Despite his words the servant moved forwards._

"_And yet here you are. Would you care to stop playing?" A poignant blush bloomed over pale cheeks._

"…"

"_What was that?"_

"_I said, no I wouldn't."_

"_Good boy." And with that the use of language was discarded by the author and the valet as both leaned forwards in order to join the other in what was currently the favorite activity of both parties. Though one was less willing to admit it, something Akihiko was determined to change. _

Akihiko pulled himself away from the flashback, deciding to store the memory for later where he could analyze and dissect it alone and with the time to appreciate each part to its fullest. Turning back to his mirror Akihiko came to a sudden conclusion. Misaki was getting better at moving silently.

"Took your time, didn't you."

"My apologies, there was a…complication in the kitchen." One silver eyebrow rose in question but the valet had offered as much as he was willing and instead gave his master a sheepish smile. Coming to the conclusion that the subject was not worth pressing the aristocrat chose to jump to the subject of, in his opinion at least, a more pressing urgency. Misaki snickered.

"Don't just stand there laughing, help me."

"Of course your majesty." Another snicker coupled with a mischievous smirk. After fixing the helpless man's cufflinks the automaton stepped back, his eyes raking up and down the others figure. More laughter followed before he once again reached towards Akihiko. "Your cravat could almost be called straight this morning." Akihiko groaned, half from the frustration that stemmed from having to dress one's self and half from being so near to your object of desire that it was all he could do to not pounce of his future lover, damn the consequences to hell.

He groaned again as the sensation of small fingers brushing against the tender skin of his neck sent a fire shooting through him straight to his groin. With the restraint of a French chef during lent he grasped Misaki with a hand on each hip and picking him up, the strain to his stomach wound was almost none existent by now, deposited him half a meter away. Emerald eyes looked at him with a knowing twinkle as if partial to the entirety of the herculean struggle his superior was going through. They had not talked about it, for to talk of such would reveal to the other just how hard this vow of abstinence was, but Akihiko felt that Misaki was able to read every thought that ran through his head since the whole fiasco started. Feeling a little put out he turned away from the shorter in order to inspect their handy work in the mirror.

"It doesn't look any different."

"I'm pretty sure I could rip both sleeves from your shirt and it wouldn't look any different to you."

"Are you saying I should have no authority over my clothed appearance?"

"No, I'm saying it is inadvisable."

"That is the same thing." The eyes of Misaki's reflection again twinkled meaningfully before he chose to change the subject.

"It seems to be that time of year where the invitations for this season's balls and parties start coming in. You got at least twenty just this morning."

"Throw them out. I don't want to hear any."

"Are you sure, the Countess of Gladsbury would very much like your company for tea in this coming month." Misaki was shuffling merrily through the thick stack of mail he had brought up.

"I don't do tea."

"How about the ball to celebrate the debut of the Earl of Worchester's daughter?"

"I don't do balls either." The words came out as a low growl.

"Pity, he says the celebration will be partly in honor of the new book you published this past Christmas."

"Most likely he means it will be partly in honor of the recent rise in the stock of my father's company."

"True, true." Misaki was clearly enjoying himself, after all how could he not be when every refusal meant more time that Akihiko would spend at home, and more specifically with him. Still he feigned innocence and used this as another test, for perhaps Akihiko had not realized the meaning of his refusals and just didn't enjoy the company of London's finest. He needed to be sure and so he continued to play the part of the innocent valet eager in getting his master to socialize. "You also seem to have acquired a hefty stack of calling cards. If you are not willing to go to London, surely you can't be opposed to London coming to you."

"Send back each one with an apology. I am lying in my bed writhing in pain and can't be bothered to entertain presently." Misaki shot the fit, upright profile of his future lover a pointed look.

"Clearly." With a sigh he gathered the rejected invitations into a neat pile before grabbing a brush off the vanity and began brushing the back collar and shoulders of Akihiko's vest and shirt. The taller man locked eyes with his reflection and Misaki almost gasped allowed at the heated promise the smoldering amethyst pair sent his way. For a few short seconds, though it seemed many long minutes, he was trapped, unable to escape from the want and passion that lay smoldering just below the surface. The brunette wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or disappointed upon his eventual release and instead chose to focus all his attention on the brisk stokes of his brush, and astutely ignore the rather crimson shade his face had acquired.

"Usagisan…"

"Hmmm?"

"A while ago you said I was not permitted to go to the market until you were able to accompany me. After last night's inspection do you judge yourself well enough to go out?"

"Of course." An apologetic smile found its place upon the noble's lips as he realized Misaki must be tired of staying within the confines of the house for so long, a realization strengthened only by the brilliant smile that lite up his servant's face.

"In that case I advise that we leave within the hour, that is unless we want all the quality good to be gone by the time we get there."

"Then leave me to my breakfast while you go right the apologies."

"Yes Usagisan!" And with a tinkling of porcelain and a shuffling of papers Misaki was gone, off to complete his task as fast as possible because he _knew_ that his master would not be ready anywhere within the hour without a great lot of assistance. As he passed the landing window he cast his eyes to the outside world. The snow upon the hydrangea bushes and the lawn had long since melted and as if in celebration of his coming emergence the sun had also come out. Something in Misaki's mechanical heart began to sing and his pace acquired a fresh little hop as anticipation swelled in his chest. So focused was he on the coming freedom that sparkling emerald eyes failed to register the small slip of paper that slipped from the pile and into the thick foliage of a nearby house plant. The card flipped and turned a couple of times before settling atop the damp potting soil, right side up. Upon the face of the card, in bold, gilded letters surrounded by flourishing loops and curls read:

Lord F. Usami

Of the

Usami Shipping & Tea Co.

Will be Calling on You This Evening at Seven of the Clock.

And hand written beneath these words in equally flowing handwriting was a single command…

_Do not disappoint_.

**Chao. Did you miss me? If it makes you feel any less bitter know that I wasn't enjoying my absence. I was planning only on writing another chapter for this fic after I finished Changes in Time but I really don't want to write that lemon and I got a sudden much needed motivation so here you go. **

**Cockroaches and other vermin in the kitchen were a huge problem especially after the industrial revolution caused everyone to be packed into the city like sardines. Now a days we think of vermin as rats and mice but back then the main problem were blackbeetles, fleas, cockroaches, and even crickets. It was not uncommon at night, especially with lazy servants, for the entire floor of the kitchen to become a living moving carpet. While cockroaches traveled the water pipes the beetles would hang from the ceiling in great bunches and often would drop onto heads or food. The only way to stop all this was to first block all holes with cement, replace crumbled mortar, and scrub the floor constantly with carbolic acid.**_** Our Homes**_** suggests buying hedgehogs to eat the bugs but this was seen as fruitless, especially by Beatrix Potter's servants when they were forced to spend the night on the kitchen table because the floor heaved with cockroaches.**

**Rats and mice on the other hand were not seen as a problem and one account reports them as 'nice, pretty, clever little things…They…are our friends, acting as scavengers, and are to me in no wise repute.' It was even recommended to keep the rodents alive for fear that they would die under the floor boards and that the smell would cause disease. **

**Aren't you all thankful for modern living? Most of the above info came from The Victorian House by Judith Flanders, one of my all-time favorite books.**

**The Crimean War. **

**Around Kensington Garden, Mayfair, and other rich neighborhoods it was in fashion to have white steps, this however could not be accomplished no matter how much the servants scrubbed those stones so instead it became the habit of sprinkling the front stoop with a white chalk. The problem was this would all be gone by nightfall and would have to be repeated EVERY morning. Talk about needless work. Regrettebly, as I stated before, most of these neighborhoods were gated so there aren't many pictures but it was said to be quite a sight early in the morning.**

**From the floor plans I've looked at this seems to be a room right next to the entry hall. And yes, I do look at the floor plans of Victorian houses for fun. And no, I do not have any friends.**

**Wedgewood tea sets are hard to describe. They generally come in sky blue with white figures cut out and stuck onto them. They do not however look at all like what was portrayed in Kuroshitsuji. **

**So I can't remember what kind of business Akihiko's father is in and I don't think it's really mentioned so I made him rich through tea because I just finished a book (Tea: Addiction, Exploitation, and Empire by Roy Moxham) on the history of the drink and it's all I can think about right now. TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! 3 3 3**

**I know Misaki is o.o.c. in this chapter but frankly my dears I don't give a damn, he's more fun to write if you give him a back bone. Would anyone object if I made him a sexual deviant? Writing scenes with two characters flirting is just so much fun! Like between River and the Doctor!**

**If anyone else wants to read about Victorian etiquette the Victoriana magazine's website has a bit, if you're willing to sludge through the auctions that is. And deal with the broken links. And the bad formatting. Otherwise books on the subject can be found in the self-help and etiquette sections of your local book store. **


	11. Chapter 11

Emerald eyes glared at the heavens, the reason for his displeasure clear in the form of dark clouds flocking over the industrious city like vultures gathering at a kill. Turning away he shook his head to clear it of the morbid thought before realizing that while he had been trapped in contemplation, Akihiko had continued on. The silverette was now stopped at the corner of the block, looking back at the automaton with a clear question written in worried eyes.

"Misaki?" the valet hurried to catch up.

"There's to be a storm tonight."

"Oh? That bad?"

"Yes, I can feel it in my joints."

"You sound like an old man." There was a pause as Misaki fell into step behind the noble as was proper for his position. The hand gripping the basket he had brought for the market tighter, bleaching his knuckles and digging the imprint of the twisted wood into his palm. He silence continued for so long that Akihiko began to think he wasn't going to get a reply before it came in the form of an almost nonexistent whisper.

"But I am an old man, Usagisan."

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They could hear the market long before they actually emerged onto the square, the clamor of farm animals and the shouts of vendors drowning out the sharp rap of Akihiko's walking stick and the steady click of their heels on the cobble street.

Life teemed around the two as the press of humanity threatened to separate them. The curious noble's attention was in no time claimed by the many inventions and machines as they pressed their way past the row dedicated to science students and their radical new ideas. To their right, a man dressed in what was obviously his Sunday best shouted above the crowd from his platform on a brightly coloured stage. Next to him danced a prettily painted doll, the female's jerky movements and the giant key in her back showing plainly her mechanical nature. In the split second Akihiko took to listen to the man, he learned that the automaton was made to serve as much on stage as in a customer's bed. At this discovery his interest was immediately lost, the warm tugging on his hand promising more pleasure than any cold machine.

The next stall was practically overflowing with whizzing gears and pumping pistons, the unfortunate stall owner racing about trying to catch his runaway gadgets as a crowd of small boys, some with bags of roasted chestnuts, formed a huddle around what appeared to be a pint sized barber on wheels. Armed with a comb and scissors the contraption fought bravely against the prodding sticks of the street urchins as a red faced stall owner fought to reach his precious invention in time.

That stall too rapidly disappeared from his line of sight. Another jerk to his hand lead him weaving through the bustling crowd, the only glimpse of his guide being a quick flash of a brunette mop before his attention was once more grabbed by the miniature stage on his right. Amethyst eyes watched in amusement as what appeared to be a troupe of white mice garbed in gaily coloured tutus performed an intricate array of trapeze acts and tightrope walks. The pint sized circus even had two mice whizzing around the base of the stage in a toy car. Akihiko observed with interest the small cage atop each of the rodents white heads, the metal bars surrounding what looked to be a little glass dome glowing green and flashing with every button their ring leader pushed on the wire crowded hand-held on which he was concentrating all his attention. He seemed to be focusing on it so much that the poor inventor missed entirely the utterly delighted orange cat that had leapt merrily onto the small stage and had begun chasing the terrified performers.

His attention to this small piece of chaos was quickly broken at the feel of something soft landing upon his face. Looking up, his eyes widened at the sight of a woman's form impossibly twisted as she hung suspended from a single silk rope. With unearthly grace she maneuvered herself in a dance fifty feet above the ground, her body flowing seamlessly from one pose to another. Akihiko winced as her legs twisted in a way that looked unbelievably painful but at the same time as effortless as breathing.

"Come on Usagisan, we're almost through." And indeed they were. Like a cormorant breaking free of the river they reached the end of the crowd to the market beyond. Akihiko half turned to look back at the crowd as Misaki paused next to him to catch his breath. Unbeknownst to both of them their hands continued to be joined. "Bloody hate crowds." The taller looked down at his vertically challenged companion.

"Afraid of being stepped on?" The brunette shot his master a nasty glare.

"At least I'm not gawking at every newfangled contraption made by those dime a dozen halfwits who fancy themselves great inventors."

"Dime a dozen? Are we using American slang now?" Misaki opened his mouth to protest. "Careful with your tongue. If I didn't know better I'd say you were jealous."

"Am not!" With an amused smirk the younger pulled his companion closer until warm breath tickled over the shell of a rapidly reddening ear.

"Worry not _mon petit_. The beauty of your fine mechanics and finer features soars above all others in terms of pedigree. You do your brother proud." The smirk had not disappeared as the aristocrat drew back satisfied at his work. The effects of his rich husky voice were clear as before him his lover stood, eyes darkened with lust and trembling lips parted as though waiting to be plundered by their other half. The vision before him lasted too briefly as Misaki forcefully shook his head and, before turning around to proceed to the vegetable stands, delivered Akihiko a displeased scowl. The recipient knew better, for he had spied the longing and desire shimmering just below the surface of those forest green pools.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The sight of a noble following the orders of a younger servant must have been amusing to the growing audience at the street markets and Misaki was quickly losing patience as he attempted to communicate his purchase with a furiously giggling apple seller. If the woman would only shut up and listen he could move onto the last thing on his list but no, the blithering idiot woman kept collapsing into a fit of unending giggles every time the automaton opened his mouth to speak. Above them the sky was now darker than ever and he wanted nothing more than to get Akihiko home before the storm hit. But no, apparently the sight of his master dressed in a neat charcoal over coat and beaver skin hat was too much to bear for some people. If someone didn't do something soon he was going to strangled the confounded dimwit and be on his merry way.

Akihiko of course wasn't helping in any way with his charming smile and demure pose behind the valet, temporarily holding the grocery burdened basket as Misaki tried in vain to make the apple tart for tonight's dessert something more than a whimsical fancy. It was at this point that Akihiko finally took pity on his struggling servant and stepped up to the booth.

"Excuse me miss." The woman's giggles instantly silenced as so many had before when faced with the Usami charm. "We would like to purchase some of your apples and we're in a bit of a hurry you see…"

"Oh, yes of course. 5p please." After handing the airheaded red faced woman her money Misaki briskly turned on his heel and stomped away from the stand, but not before grabbing the basket from Akihiko. Effortlessly, said noble fell into step behind the disgruntled man. The next few minutes were spent in silence until Misaki could bear it no longer.

"I don't understand!"

"Don't understand what?"

"You! And your effect on us poor innocent civilians! I wouldn't be surprised if you turned out to be some kind of incubus or something! You are an incubus aren't you and you've trapped all of London under your spell! That must be it! There is no other explanation!"

"Are you done?"

"Hardly, but anything I say is pointless isn't it."

"Quite."

"It's still not fair." Akihiko flashed his partner a blinding smile.

"Life isn't fair." Misaki stared hard it the taller, his arms crossed in front of a narrow chest, the basket hanging limply at the crook of an elbow.

"You're laughing at me."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are! Inside! You can't feel me! I can tell!"

"If you insist."

"Oi! Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." Just then Misaki's view of the other's broad back as he strolled forwards, carelessly twirling his cane, began to tilt as something heavy collided with his back with bone jarring force. Before he could do anything the cobblestones of the street were rushing towards his face and too late he threw his arms in front of him sending the basket of groceries flying. With a yelp and a tangle of limbs his front connected with the hard stones, his momentum on impact increased by whatever had knocked into his back.

The next few seconds were chaos as the automaton attempted to right himself and relieve his back of the pressure that was slowly but surely grinding his sheathed wings into his tender shoulder blades. Giving up any attempts at obtaining a vertical state he instead managed after much struggle to twist around so that he was face up and able to discover just what it was that had so rudely put him in this uncomfortable position. Emerald eyes immediately locked with those of dull brown before his face was promptly covered in brunette tangles similar in shade to his own coffee locks. Furiously spitting out the foul strands he managed to utter the first thing his befuddled mind could come up with.

"Git off! You're heavy!" His immediate reward was a stunningly powerful slap to the face. From behind him the sound of an amused snort met his ringing ears.

"That is no way to address a lady!" Cracking open one pain-glazed eye, Misaki's sight was met with what looked to be a shapely brunette straddling his hips in such a way that the woman's earth toned skirts had hiked up considerably. To Misaki's dismay his eyes were greeted with the sight of one shapely thigh sporting the strap of a garter attached to a much worn striped stocking. The poor automaton's face immediately exploded in a brilliant tomato red hue when the fact finally registered that she was lacking any sign of pantaloons. Without further ado he threw her off in an attempt to escape the compromising position.

Both brunettes sat there in the street, one attempting to recover from a sudden sensation of being airborne, the other from a most unexpected sight. It was then that Akihiko chose to intervene in the form of two strong hands reaching down to hook under his valet's arms and pull the still dazed figure up. Recovering quickly the "lady" too rose, revealing herself to be even shorter than Misaki.

"Well I never! In all my days I have yet to be treated worse than what you sir, have just done to me! I demand an apology this instant!"

"Wait a second; you're the one who—!"

His words were cut off as a sudden yank to his collar sent him pitching forwards out of Akihiko's arms. His forehead quickly found its home against another's as fire shot from narrowed brown eyes into his own startled green. Misaki gulped nervously at the front row seat to the woman's primal snarl.

"Apologize. Now." Her words were a low hiss, sending a shiver down his spine although that might have been more the result of the scantily clad, ample bosom firmly pressing into his own. He was a veteran soldier damn it! He would not be threatened in such away! Especially by the one who had sent that week's vegetables flying into the gutter.

"No." With the force of a steam engine a fist found its home in his gut, sending him careering backwards into Akihiko's solid frame. Despite the fact that Misaki knew she was shorter than him, with her feet spread in what was clearly a practiced fighting stance, and roughened hands planted firmly on wide hips, coupled with the generous chest firmly jutted out for the world to see, made the automaton feel the size of a mouse as he staggered into Akihiko's arms.

"Apologize." His answer had to be forced out between multiple hacks as his lungs attempted to recover after having the wind so forcefully knocked out of them.

"You apologize, you bloody tart!" He was just able to block in time as a pointy toed high heeled boot flew at lightning speed towards his vulnerable manhood. There was a high pitched yelp as with both hands he pulled on the leather laced ankle. It is hard to say who was most thankful when the sudden tumble to the ground did not sent the strange girl's skirts any higher than her upper thigh. As a string of foul language came from the brown mess of hair and skirt in front of him, Akihiko, seeing that his servant had gained the upper hand, released Misaki from his grip.

"I'll just…pick up the groceries." His words went unheard as Misaki responded to the woman in a shout whose nature equaled that of the muddy spitfire. Turning around Akihiko's violet eyes were met with the sight of a disheveled blond on her hands and knees as she worked furiously to stuff all of Misaki's hard earned purchases into a steadily growing burlap sack.

"Oi! Leave those alone!" With a surprised squeak she was on her feet revealing herself to be at the most a few centimeters taller than the silver haired man's servant. Behind Akihiko the screaming match fell silent as both sides, along with the crowd which had gathered at the disturbance, trained their eyes on the thief. Said thief cocked her head and with a flirty grin shifted the sack into one hand and over her shoulder. To Akihiko's bewilderment her other hand drifted down to gripped the hem of the colorfully stained camisole which made up the entirety of her outfit.

"Polly! Don't you dare—!" But Polly did dare. Quick as a flash the blond puller her hand up revealing to the some parts pleased and some parts horrified audience her astonishing lack of undergarments.

The exhibition lasted no more than a second though before the blond dropped her hem, spun on her heels, and disappeared down a side alley.

"Misaki!"

"Y-yeah?"

"That was our groceries."

"WHAT!" The noble's calmly delivered line was all that was needed to separate the two brunette opponents from their hair pulling, nail scratching, squabble on the street. As one they shot up and took off after the runaway blond.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Misaki frowned. Up ahead he could see the loosely flowing hair of the blond as she half ran half danced between empty barrels and over discarded rubbish. They were well into the slums of London now and still the chase carried on even as the buildings on each side closed in upon them and the skies above grew darker with threatened rain. His frown deepened as thoughts of leaving his rabbit alone for any longer gave him another burst of speed, and the willowy figure of the blond grew closer. Beside him, attempting in every way to impeded his progress ran the harlot. Somewhere along the way she had acquired a broom and the ex-soldier continually found himself having to alternate between ducking and jumping over the wooden pole. Throughput the journey the woman's loud threats never ceased, although the subject of her words alternated frequently.

"Polly! Do you hear me? When I get a hold of you I'm going to pull out your bloody brains through that cute little nose of yours with those god damn eyebrow tweezers you're so fond of! Polychrome! Do you hear me?!" There was a giggle from up front as the curvy girl paused in her bellowing long enough to swing the broom handle at Misaki. "And you! Wouldn't you just stay put for a bleedin' minute! I haven't finished with you yet!"

It was then that Misaki decided he had had enough and with a silent apology to Akihiko and a promise to pay the man back he swiftly shed first his coat, then his waistcoat, and last his favorite cream shirt, the one he had starched just yesterday. He was bare from the waist up, the metal heart on his chest glinting in the light of a passing lanterns, the sheaths for his wings apparent to anyone who would look.

"'Ey! Why are you stri—?!"

With a snap, majestic wings expanded just as the swollen clouds finally found they could hold their burden no longer. A torrent thundered down between the brick walls on either side of the alley, soaking it's occupants in seconds. None paid it any mind, as synthetic feathers aligned and in an instant Misaki was aloft, riding the invisible air currents between the buildings. Every powerful flap and bright whirl of gears sent water droplets cascading down like sparkling diamond, each one catching the light in their own unique way. Chocolate strands plastered themselves to rosy cheeks as emerald eyes lit up with an internal fire fueled by the sheer joy of flight after being too long earthbound. Adrenaline sang through his veins and like a missile he sped down the alley, the trash and filth of the street never touching his pale form. A hysterical cry rang out from behind him.

"POLLY! DUCK!" To his delight the blond instead chose to turn around to find the cause of her friend's distress. In that instant Misaki turned his body sideways, and like a swallow diving towards the surface of a river, he swooped down between Polly and the alley wall, and when he rose up again, it was with the burlap sack clutched tightly to his chest.

Rain hammered like bullets against his cheeks but he did not stop, instead with each flap he increased his speed as he rocketed towards the mercury clouds, until the buildings below him were reminiscent of doll houses, and the people nothing more than land bound flies.

It was only then that he stopped and chose to hover, a mere meter or two below the cloud line. With a whooping laugh he threw his head back, allowing a spray of water to fly in an arch from his near black hair, and like the sea finally bursting through a dam the laugher rose up from inside him and exploded into the air. His eyes closed in sheer bliss at the feel of icy water flooding down to caress his cheeks and stream down his exposed collarbone. Dark hair curled around the base of his neck creating a path for the water to flow down and around the metal projections on his back. A shiver coursed down his spine but he welcomed it with delight. The corroding fingers of the polluted city fell from his body and his heart found itself beating freely. Nothing in the world rivaled the breath taking pleasure of flight. His clockwork body sang to the heavens in thanks for the shrouding curtain of water which allowed him this small freedom because, for the first time, in a very _very_ long time he felt alive. Well and truly alive.

As his cheeks began to ache from grinning and his fingers to lose feeling from the cold he finally opened his eyes and looked down upon the winding, twisting roads of London. It took him less than a second to find his destination before turning himself in that direction and in a flash of metallic light, he was off. Because too be honest, he couldn't wait. After all, in his opinion at least, three days, eight hours and twenty seven minutes could not pass faster.

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The ship was there. Hanging suspended and silent just below the wispy reach of the clouds, invisible and overlooked by the residents of the empire's greatest city. Mirrors, enhanced and bent in just the right way, a technique adapted and honed through months of bloodshot eyes squinting at hurriedly scribbled equations, balanced with precision and fine-tuned to perfection all under the light of a singular burning gas lamp. Now those very same mirrors helped to repel the rain, giving golden eyes a clear view of the city, spread out like a banquet before its king. And a king this man was, if the strong set to his jaw and the regal nature of his shoulders were anything to go by. It was as easy to imagine him in a sparkling gold crown with a rich minx cloak as it was to imagine that same gaze and posture coming from a wild jaguar as it rested atop a high tree branch, ready to pounce at a moment's notice upon a poor unsuspecting gazelle.

Molten, burning amber eyes, framed by rich midnights locks saw and processed all. Not a detail went unobserved, certainly not a detail as significant as a half-naked boy streaking not ten feet from where he stood upon the rich wine red carpet of his sitting room.

Beside him his companion gave a small cry of surprise at the sudden appearance of the winged anomaly. Eyes green as Caribbean waters flew wide in shock and the figure jumped from their relaxing seat on the red velvet couch.

"What in the bloody hell was that?!" Sitting down the black haired man beside him took a tranquil sip from his gold rimmed wine glass.

"It appeared to be a flying boy."

"I know that!"

"Then you shouldn't have asked." The glass made a small click as it was set down on a passing silver tray before said tray rolled away again, puffing steam as it went.

"But—!"

"But you want to learn more."

"I—!"

"Excellent. So do I." And with a smile that could only be described as dangerous, the taller man leaned forward till his elbows found their place on his black, silk clad knees, the tips of his fingers pressing together creating a resting place for his chin. Suddenly, with a great bound, the man was on his feet in an instant startling the other man almost as much as the half bird half boy had. There was no time for him to be shocked though, for immediately upon finding his feet the towering figure of his captain was moving away with long, powerful strides, barking orders as he went.

"You there. Track him on the radar. Yes you! Don't stand there gawking. And you, bring down the map of Kensington's streets, he was going in that direction."

"Aye captain!" There was a sudden bustling of activity as all hands worked to locate the mysterious boy's destination. The brunette from the couch scampered up to the captain's side.

"Wait, does this mean—?"

"Yes my love, that is correct." The tall frame of the man bent slightly to plant a kiss upon befuddled lips. "There is to be a new treasure added to my collection."

Under the caress of a large hand the boy with eyes of the sea felt a shiver travel down his spine, as he clearly read the promise painted out in smoldering golden eyes.

**So hope you people don't mind the O.C.'s, or rather O.C. One's character I stole from somewhere else. **

_**CONTEST!**_

**If you can find out which one, where's she from, and what her favorite food is (just so that I know you didn't google her) I'll dedicate the next chapter to you. And boy is it going to be an exciting one. Here's a hint: I will not be adding her to the disclaimer (Which reminds me, I don't own Junjou Romantica) because the place she's from is out of copyright.**

**Anyways, if the involvement of an O.C. is too much for you and totally turns you off to my story, then know this. The girl plays a necessary part in the plot later, and if you know me I rarely do anything that does not in some way pertain to the plot. Or at least I try too. Anyways, if you're absolutely against my O.C. know that without her Misaki dies in the future because I can't think of any way to save him without the O.C. Anyways, I like my O.C. and I've had a crappy couple of days. Two days ago I found out my girlfriends only been dating me out of pity and yesterday I spend a fun afternoon having some bonding time with paramedics and later lying in pain, unable to move, till I finally passed out around 4 in the morning. Which really sucked because I just got a new book on the Victorian's that I wanted to read but that would involve turning pages and focusing on print. I couldn't even focus on Librivox which practically killed me. Which is also the reason I did not have this up two days ago. Sucks for you.**

**Anyways, I'm looking forward to see if anyone actually can guess her origins.**

**So long, and thanks for all the fish. **


	12. Chapter 12

**I still don't feel like writing that lemon for Changes in Time (any volunteers?) so here you go.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Junjou Romantica. Nor do I believe that the dynamics of the romantica couple are anything but a stereotype created by the Japanese anime/manga industry. But ho hum, I don't really give a shit. So fuck it all, here's your chapter.**

Rain drummed against the canvas of Akihiko's umbrella, sounding more like pebbles than water droplets. Beneath his soles puddles long since formed, began to reach out to each other, merging into one. Not a soul walked the deserted cobble stone street below him but amethyst eyes were not watching the street. Instead the man's gaze was turned towards the weeping heavens, eyes unwavering in their vigil. The door to the widow's walk cracked open and a sliver of red flickered in the corner of the noble's eye.

"Aikawa." The word was both an acknowledgement and a mean for expressing annoyance.

"Akihiko! You need to come down! It's going to do Misaki no good if you catch your death out here!"

"I'll be fine Aikawa. Go back to your quarters." A grumble sounded from behind the door but Akihiko knew he had won.

"Men! God save us from the plight of their sheer pigheadedness!" More grumbling ensued until the redhead chose to address her tenant once more. "It's not like I expected anything else. Here, I brought you a towel. Give it Misaki when he finally arrives." For the first time since her appearance Akihiko turned his eyes towards the woman.

"Can I ask you question?" A troubled smile danced across pale lips as he took the towel from her.

"Of course."

"Do you..." The man paused, whether it was to gather his thoughts of courage though was undecipherable. "Do you think Misaki is happy?" Aikawa's eyes flew open in surprise.

"Are you doubting him?"

"Of course not!"

"Good, because I'm going to tell you something and you should listen closely, because it will without a doubt, assist you in the future: Misaki still thinks we're in a relationship."

"What! Why would he think that?!"

"You really are a socially inept one aren't you." It wasn't a question and Akihiko growled under his breath. "But there's more, and this is the very important bit." She paused for dramatic effect and Akihiko's frown deepened in displeasure. "He's not jealous."

For a few seconds Akihiko was speechless, his mouth opening and closing in a remarkable impression of a Japanese koi. Being an Usami though he quickly hide his shock behind a mask of displeasure.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he loves you too much to be jealous."

"Pardon?"

"Haven't you ever heard the old saying, if you love something let it free?"

"I have heard variations of the sort."

"That's exactly it. Misaki loves you, too much in fact. If you were to go off and marry yourself to some fine heiress he wouldn't even so much as think of stopping you, as long as he thought you were happy. That's why he accepted your confession so easily." She ignored the demand from the other as to how she knew about that, "The way it works for him is that if you're happy, he's happy. So if you're happy thinking yourself in love with him then so be it. Of course he couldn't make it too easy for you; after all, once you decide to end this one time fling, the pain he's going to suffer will be unimaginable. By extending the amount of time until you throw him away, he extends the amount of time he gets to enjoy his game of pretend." An indignant sputter followed her blunt speech.

"This is not a onetime fling!" Aikawa's eyes bored into him making his insides squirm. On the surface though he remained standing tall, looking down at her with an expression of indignation.

"Really? Come Akihiko, even I, a lady of upward standing know of your pleasurable ways. You cannot deny that all past evidence points to the contrary."

"You don't understand! Misaki is different." Her gaze did not lift from him and under it Akihiko could feel himself returning to the days of his boyhood when he would stand in front of his father with an essay that had not yet reached standard.

"You are no longer a boy living in the shelter of his home Akihiko. The height of your standing in society will no longer rectify your playing with other's hearts. You threw that all away when you came to shelter under my roof, and as mistress of this household I will say this once. If, within you, there is even the smallest shred of a thought about abandoning Misaki, you will leave this house and continue your ways somewhere else, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Ma'am." And with a rustle of silk she was gone, leaving behind her nothing but a few grumbles about not yet being old enough to be considered a ma'am. The click of the door's latch went unnoticed by the noble as thoughts from the conversation began to cloud his mind.

He wasn't only lusting after Misaki was he? Surely he did love the boy. Images of the valet began to flash behind closed lids. His velvet smooth skin, his sparkling emerald eyes. The feel of thick brown locks as pale fingers carded through them. They were the color of rich Persian coffee in the light of a flickering candle, the movement of his hand bringing to the surface highlights of coppery red and shadows of black, like the soil at the base of a forest tree, once one had moved away the fall leaves.

A lithe figure dusting the mantelpiece, flitting from one ornament to the next, moving with grace more suited towards a dancer at a desert bazaar than a servant in an English household. Tiny hands, pale as ivory, encompassed in his own as they sat together in his bed while Akihiko rubbed lavender oil over the cracked knuckles.

Akihiko stopped himself. All these images, they were of Misaki's appearance, his surface. And wasn't it appearance that had always sparked the fires of lust? Was lust all that he truly felt towards his petit companion?

A shaking hand dug deep into the recesses of his inside pocket and clutched around the small box that resided there. A present for Misaki. He remembered seeing it as he had walked home from the market with the week's groceries, and thinking of the complaints his companion had been making throughout the time he had known him, as well as thinking about the smile the gift would bring to the servant's face. Akihiko realized something. It was not what he would be giving Misaki that had made him duck inside the store; it was what he would be taking away.

That cold glint in Misaki's eyes. The one that reminded him of a laurel leaf in wintertime, covered in a thick coat of frost. The simplest touch and the leaf would shatter beyond repair. Leaves like those had to be tended to, protected, until once again the sun shone through and warmth returned to the earth, allowing the ice to release its freezing prisoner and melt into harmless water droplets. Water droplets which would fall one by one off the tip of the leaf, never to be seen again.

Akihiko wanted to be that sun. More than anything he wanted to break through the clouds smothering Misaki's clockwork heart and chase away winter's freezing clutches.

And it was through this epiphany that Akihiko found his love for Misaki. Flashing memories based souly on the boy's appearance turned into ones of their arguments over the proper use of green peppers in gastronomy or exactly how many Suzukisans could be in one room before it became uninhabitable. The feel of a warm weight pressed up against his own in the night as they talked in whispers about the merits behind violin makers, the thought of sex pushed to the back of his mind in favor of soaking in the soft pitch of Misaki's voice.

A warmth blossomed in his chest, and as the memories continued it grew and grew until he felt near bursting. For the first time Akihiko noticed the small buds forming on the upper branches of the dog wood tree that grew up the side of the house next to him, or the merry chirping of birds as they began to build their nests in preparation for the coming of their young. Suddenly London's gray turned from a monotonous flat tone to different shades of red and brown, blue and green, all just barely concealed by the sheets of rain. God, he felt like a fool in love, which, on second thought, he supposed he was. If only his father could see him now.

A muffled flapping tore him from his thoughts as he moved his umbrella aside in order to view the sky above him. A shower of raindrops took advantage of the with-drawl of the barrier and in no time coated his face. He took no notice. There, above him, sparkling with a dazzling brightness as the few shreds of sunlight managed to find the polished metal of his wings, was Misaki, soaking wet and shirtless, but beaming like he had just won the lottery. There was a burlap sack clutched tightly to his chest, no doubt containing their pilfered vegetables.

No sooner had he landed than he was enveloped in the warmth of the towel, the indignant noise coming from beneath it sounding half like the yelp of a startled puppy and half like the squeak of a mouse. Water pooled in the forgotten umbrella as Akihiko rubbed briskly at soaked mahogany strands while petit hands came up and attempted to pull his much larger ones away. It was a full minute before they succeeded and Misaki appeared from within the towel's recesses. His bottom lip was pushed slightly out into an expression that Akihiko had coined as the victimized puppy look. The smile over his own cheeks spread wider at its appearance.

"Usagisan! What was that for?"

"You were wet. Can't have you catching cold now can we? After all, who would darn my socks then?" His pout deepened before he turned away with his nose in the air, the towel now wrapped tightly around his shivering form.

"Well I can tell when I'm not wanted." With a laugh Akihiko grasped both of his narrow shoulders and turned him a full 180° until the brunet's head ran smack into his chest. "Owww…God, and I thought I was the one made out of metal. What do you keep in there, rocks?" Misaki pocked Akihiko's chest in annoyance.

"If you care to check, I'd be willing to show you exactly what I keep under here." The taller made a move to unbutton his coat. Misaki's reaction was immediate as a flush exploded over white cheeks and suddenly he wasn't feeling quite as cold as before. Flustered he slapped Akihiko's hands away only to have his wrists gabbed, allowing the silvered haired man to pull him even tighter against his chest.

"You bastard! What are you—?"

"You know exactly what I'm doing."

"Not here pervert! People can see us for miles!"

"Surely you exaggerate my love. Besides, in this rain, everyone is inside. No one is watching so won't you grant me just one?" He leaned down slightly until he was face to face with the blushing automaton, mere inches separating their lips. Emerald eyes, darkened with want, looked away nervously, their owner's reply coming out as no more than a whisper.

"…just one."

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"Interesting."

Contrary to the silver rabbit's words, about twenty meters above the roof tops, the crew of an invisible airship watched, some in interest, some in indifference, and some in utter unadulterated embarrassment, as the valet and his master came together in a way that was as far from innocent as Timbuktu was from the queen.

"Can we _please_ leave? You know where the flying boy lives now; can't we come back where he's not so…busy?"

"Calm down Ritsu."

"Yeah, just enjoy yourself for once."

"Think they would notice is if I made her fully visible and switched on the searchlights?"

"Better not Kisa. Look at that carriage stopping in front of the house."

"Wait a bloomin' second! That's bloody—!"

"No, it can't be."

"But it is." A low whistle escaped the crowd now pressed against the window glass that surrounded the ship's helm.

"Fuyuhiko Usami."

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The knock at the bedroom door cause Misaki to pull back from Akihiko's plundering mouth, causing a growl to rise up in the throat of the taller man. Turning to the door, the automaton attempted to straighten his waist coat and rise from his position of straddling the other's hips before calling a brisk "Come in," only to have all his effort immediately undone as Akihiko pulled him close. Questing lips attached themselves firmly to the pulse point on his neck. The latch clicked and in stepped Aikawa, a distinct frown marring her smooth brow.

"That will be enough of that, I've given Misaki adequate time to dress, and business calls. Chop chop."

"I'll get to my manuscript latter Aikawa." The reply was muffled against Misaki's skin. In vain the smaller man attempted to push away his employer, only to find himself being held tighter. An indignant squawk escaped his kiss swollen lips.

"That's not what I'm here about. You have a caller Akihiko."

"I don't take calls."

"It's your father." Beneath him Misaki felt his lover stiffen before finally releasing him. A snarl ripped from the silver haired man as violet eyes flashed and he rose to his feet. Strong hands grasped the automaton's hips and carefully set him down on the bed before the man's fury was turned to Aikawa.

"You let him in?"

"As if I had the power to turn him away." Akihiko ran a hand down his face as his mind scrambled to come up with some way out of his bind.

"Usagisan, I think you should go down."

"And why pray tell should I be forced to bear the company of _that_ man?" Akihiko turned to his valet, and suddenly Misaki found the edge of the quilt extremely interesting. Nervous fingers twisted the fabric as emerald eyes looked at anything but their amethyst counterparts.

"Because well…he's your father. Shouldn't that be reason enough?" The smaller form seemed to shrink even further beneath the aristocrat's hard gaze. Seconds flew by in which no one spoke before finally Akihiko turned to his housekeeper and part time editor.

"Tell him I will be down shortly." Aikawa turned to go only to pause when Akihiko continued, "Do not however give an apology nor an excuse for my actions."

"Very well." And she was gone, the door shut behind her. Akihiko wheeled on his servant.

"I hope you know what you're doing Misaki." The valet nodded before rising and pulling a pair of gloves from his pocket while simultaneously shrugging on his coat. Turning back to his master he reached up to straighten his cravat and as he did so their eyes met and Misaki swallowed. Within mossy depths a message laid itself out clear for Akihiko to read.

_I hope to god I know what I'm doing too._

**Jeez editing is boring. Raiu2112 you have my respect. I found myself having to read Akihiko with a valley girl accent and Aikawa as a Chicago mobster accent just to get through this. Which I highly recommend. Incredible entertaining. **

**Anyways, since no one has guess where I stole Polychrome from this chapter is dedicated to my parents and my grandparent who have worked together to get me a brand new laptop. Good bye to the decade old piece of junk and hello you sexy sci-fi thingy. I now have the power to go on more than just text based websites without crashing the computer. Like Facebook! And deviantArt! Shock! I'm going to have to get used to using the internet again. Weird.**

**You all should go check my dA. What with me being bed ridden **_**again**_** and unable to sleep without a steady diet of painkillers (which at the moment I don't feel like hobbling down the stair to fetch) I've added a lot more. Like pictures of my most recent millinery creations. Know that I will be updating a lot more now too.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright people, I'm back from an internet free vacation in the Siskiyou Mountains (perfect place to take a person who finds walking painful!) with a new chapter. Just so you know, while up there, I ran out of books (shock!) and ended up typing twelve new chapters. Unfortunately for some of you, eight of them are for my new Man Yullen au, and three are for a new Romantica (which I don't own) au that I may or may not post. (I'm not sure I like the premise) This is number twelve. And no, Changes in Time was never part of that number. I also found the new plot for my next mystery so just wait for me to work out the kinks and you will have it soon. So anyways, look forward to them. Now enjoy your new chapter with the customary large dish of sarcasm that comes with every order!**

Identical pairs of amethyst eyes met through the reflection of the mirror atop the hearth. From his position in the parlor doorway Akihiko frowned at the back of the other's imposing figure. From some place deep inside the silver haired lord rose the primal urge to rip and tear unceasingly, until the threat to what was his was obliterated. Misaki, who had been holding the door open brushed past him on his way out of the room, giving him a nudge as if to say, "_Behave."_ Akihiko grimaced before sighing and addressing his father.

"I hope you didn't wait long."

"No, not at all. I hope your day has been pleasant." The man at the fireplace turned.

"Up to a point, yes. Please, have a seat." Akihiko gestured towards the chesterfield(1). "Takahashi will be in in a bit with some tea and light refreshments." Fuyuhiko sat, still managing to maintain the air of superiority that surrounded him like a second skin. Forcing him to relax, Akihiko mirrored the action, granted a little more stiffly than usual, in the armchair across from his father.

"I hope I am not disturbing." The look in the man's eyes clearly conveyed the opposite.

"No, not at all."

"So how have you been?"

"Quite well. I'm sure you read about the success of my most recent novel in the paper."

"That I did. I hope my congratulations are not too delayed."

"No, not at all."

"Good. In fact, the reason I came was on hopes of joining you for dinner." Out of the corner of his eye Akihiko watched the shadows beneath the door freeze. Misaki, who presumably had been about to open the door, must have heard this. Akihiko thought fast. Considering the lateness of the hour there was no way the valet could prepare a dinner before midnight. Best to deal with this before his beloved flew into a panic. A relaxed smile found its way to his lips.

"I hope you don't mind, but I was planning on dinning at the Ritz this evening."

"The Ritz would be lovely." The shadow beneath the door silently vanished as Misaki left to make reservations, and Akihiko gave an internal sign. It was going to be a long evening.

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The clinking of silver against gilded crystal glasses joined the pleasant chatter in a soft harmony that rose to the twinkling chandelier that hung from the stucco ceiling. Waiters, in their starched collars and spotless gloves, glided from table to table, carrying with ease the gleaming silver trays, and pushing steaming carts. At the end of the room, on a raised platform rimmed with a gold railing and the occasional palm, an orchestral serenaded the company around them.

Akihiko took this all in with a disinterested glare, his gaze only alighting once on a particular pair of diners being served a few tables away. They were two men, one tall, perhaps even taller than him, with midnight hair and piercing golden eyes, which danced in amusement at something his blushing friend must have said. The other…the other looked like Misaki. Not in the same way as if Misaki were looking in a mirror, but more in the idea of Misaki. Like if one were to create a doll of his servant. There was the messy brunette hair, just not _as_ messy, and there were the high cheekbones and almond eyes that identified the man as one from the orient. Closer inspection still revealed his eyes to also be green, just more a soft jade, than the emerald possessed by his beloved. There was nothing perceptively wrong with the man, in fact, Akihiko would even venture as far as to call him attractive, but still he didn't like it. The resemblance to his valet was too unnerving.

His thoughts on the matter where suddenly interrupted by his dinner partner.

"You seem to be enjoying your _caneton a la presse_."(2)

"Yes, it is very good. Thank you for recommending it."

"I thought you would enjoy it."

"Evidently." Silence fell between the two as Akihiko tried to ward off a headache. They were only on the entrée. The thought of having to go through dessert and then after dinner digestif was almost too much to bear. His mind wandered to his Misaki and the image of him at home, his warm body curled beneath the quilt, awaiting his return, only made the ordeal all the more Sisyphean. Of course he knew Misaki was waiting with the carriage, and was not anyway nearer there home than he was, but still. He wanted his automaton and he wanted him now.

"Father."

"Yes Akihiko."

"I will be frank. You did not come in order to congratulate me. If you would just tell me what it is you're after we can get this whole charade over with and I can go home."

"Home? You have never called your place of dwellings a home before." No he hadn't. And for good reason too.

"That is trivial. Just tell me father, what do you want?"

"You said it yourself. Ending the charade. I want this whole game of pretend over with." Akihiko sighed before setting down his silverware and looking his father in the eye.

"I am not getting married Father."

"You are not a child anymore Akihiko. Peter Pan has flown away and it is time you come out of the nursery waiting for him."(3)

"Father, I _have_ grown up. I have bought my own house and I pay my own taxes. Can that not be good enough for you? If you worry about someone being needed to manage my household, I have hired a house keeper for exactly that reason."

"You are aware of what I want Akihiko. Do you know what people are saying? You need to acquire yourself a wife, preferably before your reputation becomes too irredeemable."

"Father. I will say this one time and one time only. Society can bloody go to hell.(4)" With that Akihiko lay down his napkin and gestured to a passing waiter for the check.

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Neither man spoke during the ride home, the only sound accompanying there ride being the clatter of the horse's hooves and the rumble of the carriage wheels below them. In stiff silence Misaki sat opposite the father and son. He could feel the elder's stony gaze piercing into him, inspecting every detail from his shoe lases to his unsuccessfully tamed hair. The automaton wanted more than anything to be able to squirm, or at the very least break the silence, perhaps even pick up the easy banter Akihiko and he always entertained during drives. He knew it was not his place though, so he gritted his teeth and locked his muscles, determined not to fidget with the buttons of his tail coat while his mind raced with worry. What if Fuyuhiko recognized him? What if he was deemed not good enough? What if it was decided he was too young? Or worst of all, what if the man's all seeing gaze picked up on the intimacy and warmth Misaki could feel every time he entered the vicinity of his landlord?

No, that couldn't happen. Misaki was being so careful, with his ridged posture and down cast gaze. Surely it would take a psychic to see past the charade. But still…

…what if?

The carriage skipped over a pothole as it slowed while they approached the house and Misaki was jarred from his whirling thoughts as Fuyuhiko's driver finally brought them to a stop and Misaki hurried to open the door. Akihiko dismounted first and, sure that his lover's body blocked the view, one of the automaton's hands came out as if to steady him. The silver haired man placed his own hand over the servant's arm as if to help maintain his balance and through the contact Akihiko gave his lover a comforting squeeze. The contact spoke volumes between the couple. Through it Akihiko managed to convey his frustration as well as his need for support, at the same time he told the valet that it would not be much longer until they were safely together beneath the covers, away from the clutches of a distracting world. The reassurance went both ways as they each communicated to the other that it was going to be alright. A quick glance at emerald eyes told the noble that he had been understood and inside his chest rose the will to keep going.

Neither lover saw the frown that drew itself across Fuyuhiko's brow.

Aikawa opened the door from inside and the driver lead the horses around back to rest until it came time for Fuyuhiko's visit to end. The automaton trailed behind the two men as they made their way into the house. After taking their coat, sticks, and hats, he showed them into the drawing room before dismissing himself in order to fetch the after dinner refreshments.

When he next came upon the two men he was pushing a cart laidened with decanters into the drawing room. The atmosphere in the room immediately made itself known, in much the same way that an anaconda makes itself known by tightening around your neck. Misaki gulped silently before beginning the routine pouring of Akihiko's evening cognac into the snifter.(5)

"I invited you to the traditional opening of the season ball."

"I know."

"I received your R.S.V.P."

"Good, that means Takahashi has been doing his job."

"Do not attempt to amuse me with talk of your valet Akihiko. I want to know why your reply was in the negative!" The man was on his feel, towering over his son with a thunderous expression, looking ready to strike at any moment. Misaki's mind flew into a whirl wind, grasping for a way to protect his beloved without initiating violence.

"Sir." Sweat had broken out on the valet's brow. Without thinking he had grabbed the cigar box and now with a blank face he offered them to the lord. Relief broke through the cloud of panic as the man turned to him, all attention leaving his son. Akihiko offered a devious smirk and Misaki knew he had met with approval.

"Father, please try a Havana. I only just had them arrive this morning." Elegant fingers plucked the rolled tobacco leaves from the box, which Misaki promptly snapped it shut before holding out the snipping tool. Satisfied that Misaki had accomplished his task, Akihiko picked up where they had left off.

"You know very well I do not go to balls Father."

"As you know that I do not approve."

"You cannot force me. I am no longer under your control."

"Akihiko, every son is under the control of their father. Would you care for me to have a word with your publishing company? I fancy it would be difficult to continue your life style when all funds have been cut off."

"They would not listen to you. They rely too much on the profit I bring in."

"Ah, but perhaps they would listen when I threaten to cut off all their shipments to America and our colonies." Akihiko's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he realized he was not going to win the full victory and must instead shoot for compromise. But how?

Across the room emerald eyes realized it was once again time for him to intervene, so with a practiced snap that drew the attention of both inhabitants in the room, he lit a match before lowering it to the cognac. For a few seconds the blue flames dances across the surface of the amber liquid before dying off. With a lazy gesture Akihiko held his hand out for the snifter and Misaki placed it between the slender fingers before turning to the elder Usami, a question in his eyes.

"Sherry for me."

"Father," He waited for the man's attention to turn to him, "I realize the only reason you wish for me to attend you ball is so that I might find someone I wish to court. There is however one dilemma. Someone has already caught my eye." A loud crash echoed through the room, startling all occupants. Twin pairs of violet eyes turned to take in the cause of disturbance.

"I-I'm sorry! It must have slipped. P-please, pay me no mind." The sherry decanter was in pieces scattered all over the tray and carpet. Rosy liquid seeped steadily into the linen of the cart along with the axminster (6). "I-I'll have your sherry in a moment sir. Please continue." With frantic hands Misaki gathered the broken shards into a napkin and placing them on the tray, fled the room. Beneath a silver fringe, violet eyes, dark with worry, took in the scarlet bloom that had sprouted across the once pristine white gloves, joining the pink stained.

"Dismiss him."

"Pardon?"

"I said dismiss him. Any servant who cannot hold a simple glass bottle is not worth the continual suffering. I expect him gone when next I visit." There was a moment of silence, broken only by the crackling of a suddenly very cold fire.

"…Father…I fear you seem to be under a misimpression. This is not your home, and thus he is not your servant. Takahashi will not be leaving my employment without any consent but my own."

"Don't be a fool Akihiko. Not only has he just broken a vintage bohemian decanter(7), but he has permanently stained your carpet." The man threw he arm out to gesture at the growing rosy puddle. "He is already under aged, just what could possibly be worth not dismissing him?" Akihiko smirked and relaxed against the leather back of the arm chair.

"Ah, so you do not know…."

"This is no time for games Akihiko." Without a word Akihiko reached out and rang the small copper bell that sat on the side table next to his drink. In an instant Misaki walked back through the door, no evidence what so ever of the occurrences of the past few minutes, save the slightly wild look to his eyes. But Akihiko knew he was the only one who could see this.

"Takahashi."

"Yes sir?"

"Fetched the Stradivarius." Fuyuhiko's eyes shot to his son's and regarded them with a narrowed gaze as Misaki left the room.

"The Stradivarius Akihiko? I gave that to you over ten years ago. Are you trying to tell me you've actually been keeping up on your lesson?"

"No Father, I simply wish for you to listen."

"Listen? Are you trying to tell me your servant knows the violin? Stop playing games Akihiko."

"No games Father, I promise." No more words were exchanged for the next few minutes until Misaki once again entered the room, violin case in hand. "Tell me Father, do you have something in mind, or should I pick tonight's entertainment?" Across from him Fuyuhiko's eyes narrowed further. He would not be letting Akihiko get out of this easy.

"I have been wanting to hear some Vivaldi recently. How about Winter, from the Four Seasons." Misaki smiled nervously as he picked up the violin and placed it below his chin. He hadn't played for an audience that wasn't Akihiko for…he didn't know how long ago it was. Almost two decades he would estimate. As he began to give a few experimental strokes while twisting the pegs he brought up the sheet music in his head. Luckily he had played it for his landlord just last week but…oh god, his hands were shaking and he could feel them growing damp with sweat. Emerald eyes shot a frantic glance at their Master's, receiving in return an encouraging look.

That's right. Akihiko was helping Misaki redeem himself. And it was a violin for god sakes, and if there was anything Misaki was master of it was violins. Even this ridiculously valuable Stradivarius that Akihiko hadn't even known he had till Misaki had dug it from the bottom of a crate two weeks ago. Rosy lips curved into a fond smile and with a confident stroke, let the bow glide down over the strings, letting loose the first sweet note. Akihiko required him to prove the legitimacy of the life he had built. Akihiko was _depending_ on him. Akihiko _needed_ him.

The smooth strain came out sweet and true, the notes traveling across the room, carrying with them an overwhelming feeling of comfort and happiness. Despite himself, Akihiko found his eye lids sliding shut as muscles that had been stiff all evening relaxed at the familiar feel of Misaki's music traveling over him in waves. The entire world died away till all that was left was the song, and from the song came the manifested love and beauty that was his Misaki.

Too quick the piece ended and Akihiko was forced to open his eyes in order to inspect his Father's face for approval. To his dismay the frown had deepened. His eyes though had adopted a far away look that puzzled his son.

"Was that not satisfactory Father?"

"It was…adequate. But let us hear another piece. I suggest Paganini's 24 Caprices." Akihiko's gaze met Misaki's in question and the boy nodded, emerald eye's blazing with determination.

And then the music was faster, sharper. Hard lines and quick notes, with strong pauses and jerky movements. Akihiko kept his eyes open this time, watching Misaki's whole body flow from one note to the next, the violin being merely an extension of his arm.

The evening continued on like that, going from Bach back to Paganinni all the way to Liszt, the flow of request never ending as Misaki continued to play for the next hour. Akihiko knew his father would have had no qualms about making the servant play for another two, but crimson splotches were beginning to make a reappearance and Akihiko decided enough was enough.

"One more song Father. It is late and I am beginning to pine for my bed." The oldest surviving Usami delivered a cold look to his son from the corner of his eye.

"One more hmm…let's see…how about Locatelli, I'm thinking caprice 23." (8) Only Akihiko was able to see the imperceptible widening of Misaki's eyes. Eyes already rimmed with shadow. Misaki was tired, practically dead on his feet, but the noble could also see the drive in those eyes and he knew the boy would die before he let his master down. It scared him almost as the automaton once again set his bow to the strings without hesitation.

"Takahashi." Darkened evergreen eyes met his. "I am tired and would like something relaxing. Do it in Largo."

"Yes sir." Muscles made to pull downwards only to be frozen at the next request.

"I should think not Akihiko. To do it in largo would be sacrilege. I want to hear it in allegro and nothing but." Misaki gave him a questioning look that contained within it a well hidden plea. Akihiko was sure that the valet didn't even know it was there. His chest tightened as he gave the nod for permission and Misaki began. The violin wailed and squeaked beneath his exhausted fingers, the sounds coming out short and clipped but at the same time flowing together seamlessly, almost as if there were two violinists in the room instead of one. As always his performance was perfection itself.

Akihiko did not enjoy the piece, no matter how masterfully it was played. He could see the pale, drawn look to the boy's features and was able to make out the sweat soaking into the other's brunette hair. Guilt settled heavily in his chest but he did not stop his lover. To do so would show weakness to his Father and he knew the man would not hesitate to removed Misaki if her performance were anything less than perfect.

Though it was only a few minutes, it seemed an eternity before the piece ended and the bow was lifted from their counterpart. As Misaki made to carefully replace the priceless antique onto case, the Akihiko gave an imperceptible sigh of relief before addressing his Father.

"I think that that is enough and hope it was to your satisfaction."

"Satisfaction is one word for it. Do not think however that you have been excused from your duties. I would like some evidence of this potential bride before you are entirely dismissed from showing your face during the season."

"Of course Father. Do you really suppose I would lie to you about something like this."

"You do not want to know what I suppose Akihiko. Now it is time for me to depart. I will see you again on Tuesday?"

"Tuesday would be splendid. Please, Aikawa will show you to the door." And like a charm she was there, hat, coat and stick in hand.

"I have already called your driver sir. He is waiting out front with the horses." She had him gone within the next five minutes.

"…Misaki." As the back of the dreaded man had disappeared from the doorway, the automaton could feel the true weight of his exhaustion settle on his shoulders. He gazed at his master through sunken, half lidded eyes.

"Usagisan…" The name was no more than a whisper but the other heard it and with a warm smile held up his arms in invitation. Misaki took a step back. "I can't. I'm all sweaty."

"Bloody hell Misaki, do I look like I care?" The valet fixed a tired gaze upon the lavender pools.

"No…you don't…"

Within half a second Misaki had thrown himself at the other. Spindly arms wrapped themselves tightly around Akihiko's neck as the automaton buried his suddenly unbelievably heavy head under the rabbit's chin. Cool fingers threaded themselves through damp locks as their partners hooked themselves beneath the smaller's thighs. Thin lips moved against the flesh of Akihiko's throat as an in perceptible mumble met his ears. Tilting his head slightly he planted a kiss against the salty strands before standing up with the automaton firmly in his grip.

"You made me proud Misaki. Thank you." Soft snores served as his only answer. With measured steps, careful not to wake his precious cargo, the noble made his way up the stairs. The door proved to be a little tricky but he soon figured it out, and silently thanking the other for clearing his floor, he laid the limp form upon the mattress. With nimble fingers he shed the automaton of his cloths, untied his shoes and slipped off the many layers separating him from the creamy skin. A feather light kiss was planted on a petit shoulder before the quilt was pulled up to shield the lithe form from the chill. His own garments were disposed of in record time and quick as a flash he was under the covers and drawing his beloved against his chest. Before falling into the arms of Morpheus his mind wandered back to the small box stored safely in his overcoat pocket. His cheeks stretched in a quiet smile as he anticipated giving the present to his lover. Strong arms tightened imperceptibly around the other before he finally joined him in the dreaming.

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"Tanaka."

"Yes Milord."

"I would like the file containing invitations I have received to concerts. Going back to, I should think, about two decades ago." The butler gave his master a questioning look.

"May I ask why Milord?" Cold amethyst eyes adopted a faraway look that Tanaka was sure he had never seen before.

"I met someone today. They made me feel…nostalgic."

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"So we strike Tuesday?" Warm eyes, green as sea foam, gazed fondly into the molten gold of their partner.

"Yes, late. Once everyone is asleep. Our reconnaissance shall continue until then but I feel were have a firm enough grasp of their habits."

"Takanosan." The smaller of the two figured beneath the covers moved to burrow further into the warmth that was his companion. Dark lashes joined together as pale lids slid shut. There was a hum of acknowledgement that served to vibrate the man's cheek, making him smile softly. "Why do you want him so much?" Comfortable silence fell in the small cabin as the taller man aranged his words in a way he felt was understandable.

"I want his story. No one gets away with the ability to fly without also obstaining a story. I guess you could say I am curious."

"Like a cat?"

"That's right. And also like a cat I value my sleep. So no more questions, okay?"

"Okay…'night."

"Night." One long finger, calloused and shaped by years of hard work, reached out and flipped the switch on the board by the bed. Instantly all lights flickered off leaving the only illumination that of the glow of the city beneath. It streamed through the sizable porthole, casting shadows against the ceiling. These shapes was the last things the tired golden eyes witness before they too shut, and the only sound left to fill the cabin were the quiet snores of the couple.

**Chesterfield- A wide leather couch. You can still find them in Ikea catalogues these days.**

**I believe this is pigeon or something. My French isn't that good. I found it in the mystery novel Someone's Killing the Great Chefs of Europe so I figured it was adequate.**

**Alright, so I know Peter Pan didn't appear in literature until 1902, but work with me here. If you do, I might look kindly on giving Misaki a cellphone.**

**So I just finished reading The Madman and the Professor and apparently bloody hell was the equivalent of fuck. It was so bad in fact that they wouldn't even use it police interrogation reports. So yeah, I'll be using that from now on in this fic, so if you want to replace it with fuck in your mind to add more emphasis, feel free.**

**Cognac was chosen because I was watching a movie recently (can't remember which one. I think Little Foxes?)where they said, "Ah, cognac, the drink of a true gentleman…and a drink best taken amongst them, but the present company shall suffice for now." Sherry was chosen because it was the fashionable drink of the day. The whole thing about the meal plan and drinks from decanters with cigars after dinner is because almost all my relatives are old Europeans and this is the way they do it. And I could not find a thing about how it was actually done in any of my books. So BAH! Screw anyone who says I have too many!**

**An axminster is a furry Turkish carpet. It came up in Seventy Seven Clocks and it's such a fun a word I had to use it. Historian accuracy be damned.**

**Bohemian glass is basically a style of cut glass. It first appeared in 1851 at the opening of the crystal palace. I heard the queen liked it a lot and soon everyone had some. Its popularity was helped along by the fact that it was cheap to make and comes in fun colors. Info comes from Victorian Treasures: An Album and Historical Guide for Collectors. - New favorite book.**

**Have I ever told you people how much I love violins? Anyways, all the named music are pieces made legendry for their difficulty and I highly recommend you look them up on youtube.**


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